


Never Mine to Hold

by Petuniagirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Extremely Brief Suicidal Ideation, Fate Really Messes With These Boys, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petuniagirl/pseuds/Petuniagirl
Summary: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart.But Steve knew it wasn'thisname hidden under that patch.





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the angst, but it does get a happy ending. I haven't written fanfic in five years, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Unbeta'd--all mistakes are my own!

"Just breathe for me, Stevie." Bucky's steady, strong hands guide Steve into sitting down just inside the entrance to Bucky's apartment. The tile floor is freezing cold, and the shock of it makes Steve wheeze even harder.

Steve gasps for air, unable to control the way his body seems to crave oxygen more than anyone else needs. It is like a heavy weight has slammed into his chest and keeps pressing down. His eyes roll toward the white-grey ceiling, and tears sting the back of them.

Bucky pulls at Steve's knees so that they are bent and pointing upwards, and then he pushes Steve's head between them. Steve can feel Bucky rub in slow, long strokes up and down his back.

"Just breathe, just breathe. You can slow it down. I've seen you do it."

Bucky's calming voice penetrates through Steve's panic, and Steve shoots out his left hand and grabs Bucky's calf just above his boot, not letting it go. There is no control over his breathing rate, Steve knows. Heck, Bucky knows. It will either get better…or it won't.

The asthma attack had come out of nowhere. They'd been walking down the hall, joking about the most recent Dodgers' win. And then, _wham_ , Steve couldn't breathe and Bucky is half-dragging, half-carrying him to his apartment.

Steve hates that he is like this. Hates that he's thirteen and can't be like everyone else. Hates that Bucky sees him like this.

Why can't he just breathe?

Bucky gently unwraps Steve's fingers from his leg, and then he crawls over to sit next to him. He curls his arm around Steve's shoulders and pulls Steve's slight frame against his chest. With his other hand, he smooths the hair out of Steve's eyes.

"Just breathe, Steve. For me. You can't keep scaring me like this, so start breathin'."

Steve lets his head rest against Bucky's heart, feels the warmth radiating off the larger boy's body through the thin, solitary layer of flannel, and tries to breathe.

***

Steve doesn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He isn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. It's not like they're often shirtless around each other. Not since they became teenagers, anyway.

But Steve will always remember the moment he discovered Bucky had gotten his soulmark:

_Two days after Steve's sixteenth birthday, Bucky treated him to a deli sandwich at the shop about a mile from Bucky's home. It was hot out, enough that steam was rising off the pavement from that morning's rain and Bucky had undone the top three buttons on his shirt. Bucky bent over to pick up a nickel on the ground, and that's when Steve spotted it--the patch that concealed the name. It was about the size of Steve's hand and was mottled grey with off-white adhesive strips holding it firmly to Bucky's tanned chest._

_Steve nearly swallowed his tongue. He tried to keep his posture relaxed, but, hell, he was eye level with the damn thing when Bucky stood up, his shirt remaining askew on his neck and shoulders. Steve's gaze kept flicking over to the patch whether he wanted to look or not._

_"Got yourself a soulmate, Buck?" He tried,_ tried _, to sound calm and collected despite his rapidly beating heart. But at sixteen with a perpetually high-pitched voice, Steve had never achieved nonchalant. Just wasn't possible._

_Bucky sort of jolted, and then he pressed his lips together as if he was annoyed, but a smirk quickly spread across his face. "Yeah."_

_He didn't say anything else, which was maddening._

_"And…"_

_"And what, Stevie?"_

_"Is it anyone we know?"_

_Bucky shrugged, causing his shirt to right itself and conceal the patch once again. "Nobody I ever heard of."_

_Steve let that information wash over him for a second. "Sorry, Buck." And he was. He meant it. "Guess you'll meet them down the line."_

_Steve was also disappointed--devastated in reality but he wouldn't let the emotion overtake him until he was home--but he would never mention that. He ground his teeth together and swallowed back the painful lump in his throat that was threatening to choke him as much as any asthma attack ever had. He wouldn't ruin Bucky's good fortune with any confessions of his own. Ever._

_He'd always have Bucky in his life, no matter what. Steve didn't question that._

_It's just that along with the certainty that Steve wasn't Bucky's soulmate came the knowledge that one day someone else would have more of Bucky. And that…that was another thought for another time. He couldn't dwell upon these things in front of his friend. And it would never be an appropriate conversation for a random street in Brooklyn where anyone could see them. Steve wasn't stupid._

_Steve just hadn't been expecting that afternoon to discover Bucky was fated for someone else. He wasn't ready for it. He hadn't realized how much he'd been hoping it was his name that Bucky would carry, irrational and improbable desire though it may have been._

_Bucky then nudged Steve with his elbow and shot him a questioning look._

_"Still a blank," Steve said, a little hollowly, knowing what he was being asked. Tapping himself on the chest, he didn't want to think about there ever being writing there. Not when he knew what it_ wouldn't _say._

_He didn't hear Bucky's reply._

Steve doesn't have a soulmark. That isn't unusual, though. Most people receive their marks between the ages of sixteen and twenty, with ninety-nine percent having received theirs by their twentieth birthday. So, he has almost four full years before he needs to worry.

And honest to God if it isn't going to be Bucky, Steve doesn't really care that much what name he has. His Ma would say Steve is too young to decide such things, that he'll feel different once he has the mark, but Steve knows differently. He doesn't care about having a soulmark. He's made his own choice, and he'll hold onto Bucky until Bucky inevitably lets him go.

***

Steve moves into Bucky's apartment after Steve's mother dies. It's a tiny one-bedroom place not far from the docks with a small living area and a kitchenette. Steve sleeps on the sofa, sometimes putting the cushions on the floor and sleeping there instead. After the first month, he declares his main goal in life is to buy them a rug so they won't have to look at the cigarette burns on the wood floor from the previous occupant. Bucky laughs, but they both know that if they had any money between them, they'd buy food.

Steve never asks, but he is certain Bucky sometimes steals food to give to Steve whenever he thinks Steve is looking a little too puny. Given Bucky's near-constant state of worry over Steve's health, Steve thinks it happens a lot. Steve sometimes opens his mouth to tell Bucky to stop, but the near-desperate look in the other man's eyes always makes Steve hesitate.

Steve has dozens of opportunities to ask Bucky about his soulmate. He can't count the number of times Bucky has stumbled out of their bathroom in just his underwear and the patch over his heart to pace over to the kitchen to grab an apple and a glass of water.

Steve never asks about the soulmark. To be fair, Bucky in his underwear is a distraction, and Steve has to use up all his energy to pretend the fabled nonchalance he absolutely still doesn't possess.

Steve also has dozens of opportunities to make himself fall out of love with Bucky. He doesn't do that either.

***

Steve has multiple theories about why Bucky won't tell him the name of his soulmate:

  1. Bucky is being uncharacteristically private. It isn't uncommon for people not to share their soulmate's identity until they had bonded. Steve wouldn't have pegged Bucky for being one of those people, particularly not with Steve, but it's a possibility.
  2. Bucky suspects Steve's feelings and doesn't want to hurt his friend.
  3. It isn't a woman's name on his heart. It isn't unheard of, but a man's name on another man usually resulted in a beating if the wrong person found out. Most of those people never bond.
  4. Bucky doesn't care whose name is on his chest because it isn't Steve's.



No. 2 frankly terrifies him, but Steve knows it is the most likely scenario. If Bucky thought he could protect Steve, even from himself, he'd move heaven and earth to do it. But the idea that Bucky could know about Steve's feelings, guess who Steve thinks about when he touches himself in the dark, it fills Steve with shame.

Steve prays some nights that it's No. 1. That Bucky is old-fashioned in this one respect.

It doesn't take much of a guess as to which number is least likely. Bucky is tall, handsome, and charming. The dames practically fling themselves at him, and he isn't precisely shoving them away. And he is the best person Steve has ever known. Ever will know, Steve acknowledges with bone-deep confidence.

Steve couldn't wish for anything other than the perfect soulmate for Bucky. He deserves it, and on some level Steve understands why _Steve Rogers_ isn't written on his friend's chest. Bucky deserves someone who isn't skinny and short and sick. Or someone who isn't constantly getting into fights.

He deserves someone who is handsome and healthy and, yeah, probably female.

Steve knows he should just cancel off items No. 3 and 4 off the list as wishful thinking.

But, sometimes, he still wishes.

***

"If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Steve is sitting beside Bucky under a couple of blankets on their couch. Steve is toying with a pencil in his hand, the sketchbook in his lap lying open and blank. Billie Holiday's contralto, crooning "What a Little Moonlight Can Do" to the playful notes of a piano, drifts through the thin walls of their neighbor's apartment.

It's a nice night.

"Hmmm," Buck says, seeming to take the question seriously. He absently flings his arm along the back of the couch behind Steve who tries to remain still and not draw attention to what Bucky has just done. "The Grand Canyon," Bucky decides, "You used to have a picture of it in that old geography book of yours."

Steve remembers. That schoolbook had been ruined when the pipes burst at his house when he was fifteen. Bucky, who'd dropped out the year before to get a job, always read through Steve's books when he had time.

"Why there?" he asks, attempting to stifle a yawn. He'd had work that day, followed by the art class he is taking upon Bucky's insistence. He'd also been sick last week, so the day wore on him a little more than usual.

"It's warm, for one." Bucky looks over at their radiator like he might like to kick it again.

"Lots of places are warm."

"They are?" Bucky says with breathy sarcasm. "Thanks, pal, I'd never have known."

Steve strikes at Bucky's ankle with his socked foot.

"No need to turn violent," he grins, large and lop-sided, making Steve's heart stutter. "I don't know. Why does anyone want to visit anywhere? It sounds different. A huge canyon in the desert. I'd like to see what colors the rocks really look like in person."

"Brown, Bucky. They'll look brown."

Bucky swats at Steve's head. "If I didn't love ya, I'd push you out that window."

Steve tends to live for those casual declarations from Bucky's mouth, so his laughter is a bit forced as he pretends to himself he can ignore the flutter in his stomach. Unfortunately, the laugh turns into a cough, and Steve drops his pencil so he can cover his mouth.

Bucky's smile plunges, and Steve can practically feel the worry pouring off of him in buckets. "I knew we should've gotten you that medicine last week."

"I'm fine," Steve says between coughs that are finally slowing down. "This is just a leftover."

Bucky doesn't look convinced, but he lets the subject drop. "You know, one of the best things about the Grand Canyon is all that dry air. Supposed to be good for your lungs."

Steve carefully leans back on the couch, tipping his head back onto Bucky's forearm, which doesn't move. He shuts his eyes. "You planning on taking me?"

Bucky makes a huffing, frustrated sound that Steve knows means, "Of course."

"Brown pile of rocks, here we come," Steve teases with a sleepy smirk, though inwardly, he is touched that Bucky would automatically include him in his dream. Bucky loved seeing new places and new things. That he would think to incorporate Steve in any of it is always a small miracle in Steve's mind.

Steve doesn't have a lot in this world. He doesn't mean much to anyone. But he does to Bucky, and, to Steve, that is all that matters.

"So, what great and fantastic place would you like to see?" Bucky asks.

Steve can feel the warmth of sleep beckon around the edges of his mind, but he manages to say, "Grand Canyon. I've always liked it. Good place to draw."

There is silence coming from beside him, and Steve bites his lip and opens his eyes. Bucky looks caught in a tangle of laughter and murderous rage, and Steve lets out a chuckle. Bucky's eyes become deadly, but Steve decides he is too tired to do much to protect himself, so he starts laughing harder. Which is cut off by several hoarse coughs.

"Once you're well," Bucky says in a conversational tone, "I'm gonna kill you, just so you know." He sighs, then lowers his arm off the sofa to Steve's shoulders and pulls. "Come here. You sound like a cat scratched out your lungs when you cough like that."

"I'm not that bad," Steve mutters as he rests his temple against Bucky's chest. Through the soft flannel of Bucky's shirt, Steve can feel the outline of the adhesive tape that held on Bucky's patch covering his soulmark.

Steve's chest squeezes, and he tells himself it's just another cough coming.

"You're a terrible liar, Stevie." With his free hand, he picks up Steve's sketchbook and pencil and deposits them on the rickety table beside the sofa.

Drifting to sleep, Steve thinks Bucky's statement would be laughable if it wasn't also so damn painful. Steve is a fantastic liar, at least when it comes to The Secret. He has been keeping his feelings hidden for years without Bucky suspecting. And Steve will keep concealing them until the day he dies. For as long as he must.

Sleep finally overtakes Steve like sinking into warm water. He thinks he feels long fingers card through his hair, but he is too far gone to be certain.

***

Steve doesn't care about his lack of a soulmark until he turns twenty and still doesn't have one by the end of that year. In the past, whenever he pictured it arriving, he'd always planned to ignore it--he wouldn't be the first person to do so. People don't always meet their soulmates, so many decide to seek companionship elsewhere--admittedly many marriages are ruined when the delinquent soulmate finally shows up. But Steve isn't worried about this because he couldn't possibly love anyone as much as he loves Bucky.

But then his soulmark doesn't come at all. In some cases, a name might still appear after the age of twenty. But in the vast majority of those who hadn't received a name by then, it means they will die before meeting their soulmate.

It doesn't take a medical expert to look at Steve Rogers' physique and ill-health to draw the right conclusion. But when the war comes, Steve gets their diagnoses anyway.

Bucky doesn't take well to the doctors' judgment.

"Fuck 'em, Stevie. Don't let them put ideas in your head. You take care of yourself, and show 'em what's what. You'll--you'll find someone eventually, and it'll be perfect. And you'll live a nice, long life with some pretty doll." Bucky is sitting next to Steve on the boardwalk by Coney Island. Their backs are to the big Coca-Cola sign and their legs dangle off the edge over the receding tide as they watch the sun go down just behind where the water meets the land in the distance.

Steve traces his finger along a jagged piece of decking. "Don't think it will be quite that easy."

"Pssh. You're about to be the last man in New York. You'll have dames draped off your shoulders."

"I'd be happy with just one." Though maybe not a dame.

"And you'll find her. Just make sure she treats you right."

"Um, I'm the guy, Bucky. Pretty sure I'm supposed to treat her right."

"That don't mean you should put up with just any dame. If she doesn't know what she has in you, then she's not worth you."

Steve snickers, casually noting the warm sensation spreading outward from his chest. "Are you gonna start beating up the girl bullies for me now?"

Bucky flashes Steve his wickedest grin, the one where the edges of his lips curve impossibly and do things to Steve's pounding heart. "Only the ones bigger than you…so, I guess all of 'em."

Steve knocks his elbow into Bucky's side, which elicits a grunt and a laugh. "You're not going to be here to know." Bucky is planning to leave for camp in Wisconsin the following week.

"I know. It's the worst part of me leaving--that I can't keep an eye on you." Bucky tries to keep his expression neutral, but Steve can see real fear lurking behind the man's blue eyes.

"I can watch out for myself, Bucky!"

"I know ya can, pal. But that doesn’t' mean I won't worry."

"I'll be fine. You just make sure you take care of yourself."

"I always come out on top. Don't you worry. And I know you want to enlist, Stevie, but maybe you don't need to fight them on it quite so hard now? I don't think the docs are changing their minds.' He puts his large hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezes.

The argument is old, and the feeling of being turned down four times by the army smarts. "If I see a way, I'm taking it."

"I know, I know. Don't wanna start a fight tonight." Bucky puts his palms up in surrender, and Steve finds himself missing the touch. "Besides, there's no out-stubborning you. Too bad Steve Rogers' stubbornness can't be made into a weapon. We'd win the war in a day."

"Har-har."

A funny look crosses over Bucky's face, one that Steve can't quite place but that makes something twist in his stomach. "Just promise me you'll be careful. I won't sleep if I think you're not at least trying."

"I will, Buck. I will."

***

Soulbonds are consummated through a kiss, an experience which is called the "soul brightening." People say it feels like a sense of euphoria and fulfillment cemented with a constant draw to one's soulmate that would ever be present. There are stories of people with common names mistaking their soulmate until their first kiss. Jane Smiths and Joe Johnsons accidentally matching with the wrong Joe Johnson and Jane Smiths.

There are also stories of people without marks having found their soulmates with a kiss, the writing showing up on their chests immediately.

Steve has kissed a few girls, but no mark ever showed on him. Steve doubts that his soulmate, if he has one, will have female body parts.

Bucky has kissed a lot more women, though he brings remarkably few back to his and Steve's apartment to Steve's everlasting gratitude. Bucky's soulmate, whoever she is, hasn't presented herself either.

***

Their final hug before Bucky goes off to England at the Modern Marvels Pavilion is not enough to keep Steve warm on his walk back down the hall. Their arguments over Steve trying to enlist again have been harsher of late than the one at the Boardwalk all those months ago. As if Bucky realizes he has only a finite amount of time to talk Steve out of doing one last stupid thing. As if he worries that if Steve did make it, the absence of a soulmate would be an invitation to a quick death (though Bucky denies he believes this). So, it is no surprise that they are quarrelling again on Bucky's last night.

Steve can't be talked out of this one, though. Bucky should have known that--does seem to know that given the way he'd stopped the argument short and returned to their usual barbs and teasing.

It's Steve who breaks their final hug. He doesn't want to give himself away, particularly not when Bucky is leaving. He can't do that to Bucky, and so he pastes on a smile as his friend goes to meet up with the two girls.

 _Girls_ , Steve sternly reminds himself.

Goodbye hurts, but not as much as what follows. The absence of Bucky is a constant ache that haunts him like a determined ghost. It feels like winter, everything cold and grey.

Steve hates winter.

And of all the reasons that Steve wants _James Barnes_ written across his skin, none wounds him as much as the realization that Steve won't know immediately if Bucky dies. Somewhere out there, some stranger who'd never even met James Barnes will see that name fade from their skin. And they will know their soulmate has died while Steve stands around in New York oblivious.

How long will it take for Steve to receive the news of Bucky's death?

Steve couldn't-- He doesn't know what he'd do if Bucky died. Can't imagine it. Doesn't want to. Just the threat of it lingering around the edges of his thoughts is enough to make Steve's weak heart pound and his breaths come as fast as when his lungs can't get enough oxygen.

_Just breathe for me, Stevie._

From the time Bucky crosses the ocean forward, Steve gets his hands on the newspaper every day, scanning the lists of men who'd served their country and paid the ultimate price. Every day he lets out a tightly held breath when he doesn't see his friend's name.

He knows, for once, that Bucky having a soulmark is a positive sign. An unusual amount, thousands upon thousands, of men were blanks like Steve in the past few years. It was a sign of the war to come, of the massive casualties that the war would bring. The same phenomenon had occurred shortly before the Great War.

Thus, Bucky having a soulmark was a good thing. Bucky was likely to live long enough to meet the girl.

But it was no guarantee. Not even close. It just meant it wasn't hopeless--which wasn't a lot of comfort.

Bucky isn't the reason Steve wants to join the army--he wanted to before Bucky had ever considered enlisting--but if Steve can earn the privilege to fight, he hopes he can do it while keeping an eye on Bucky at the same time. He feels like a chain has wrapped itself around his heart and is tugging him toward Europe. Toward his best friend and only family. Toward his love.

However, even with his newly approved draft card, training at Camp LeHigh proves almost impossible. Steve is failing, and he knows it. (And Bucky would definitely kill Steve for throwing himself on top of that grenade.)

Steve's skin remains blank, and his health doesn't improve.

Then Steve does something--a lot of somethings--that Bucky wouldn't like.

Dr. Erskine offers Steve a solution. And though Bucky would never approve the risk, Steve does it anyway. Though Steve knows that if Bucky had agreed to take some sort of fantastical serum, he'd have torn Bucky in two. He can almost hear Bucky's voice saying, "It's an experiment, Stevie. You're not a lab rat, and you're fine as you are!"

But Bucky always lets Steve make his own decisions, and Steve isn't going to listen to the Bucky in his head on this one. Steve won't make it to Europe in his existing health, so he agrees to the super soldier program.

***

Captain America is born, and Steve eventually finds his way to the fight.

***                                                                                              

Steve won't believe Bucky is dead without proof. And he won't condemn the 107th to HYDRA's inhuman brand of justice without trying to free them first. His idea for a rescue is the exact sort of thing Bucky wouldn't countenance, but since Bucky isn't there, Steve doesn't give him a say. When it comes to Bucky, Steve has never given any consideration to his own health or safety, so he doesn't see why he would start now.

There's just the difference of a few hundred or so HYDRA soldiers this time. That's all.

Steve may not have the proof on his chest that Bucky is alive, but he knows it in his heart regardless. And so he, Peggy, and Howard Stark concoct a crazy scheme, but it proves to be anything but a fool's errand.

"Bucky!" The cry escapes Steve without any thought. The sight of his best friend strapped to a table and being experimented upon makes Steve's--now large, now strong--hands tremble as he reaches for the buckles around Bucky's chest and at his feet. Bucky is still clothed, and Steve prays that means that these goons haven't gotten too far into whatever they planned.

Bucky smiles, sweet and with joy, as soon as he realizes it's Steve. Even strapped to a table after torture, Bucky still has the best smile Steve has seen on two continents. Steve is pretty certain it's the best on all seven.

Steve sits Bucky up and hugs him tight, breathing in the smell of sweat and something medicinal on his skin. "I thought you were dead."

Bucky leans back and blinks up at him. "I thought you were smaller."

Steve snorts. Bucky is going to be okay. They get up and moving.

"What happened to you?" Bucky is barely able to walk on his own, so the words come out with a bit of a gasp.

"I joined the army." Steve guesses that neither his friend's daze nor the flames and explosions threatening them would stop Bucky Barnes from tearing into Steve's hide if the words "super soldier serum experiment" are mentioned at this moment.

"Is it permanent?"

If they weren't running from a blazing building, Steve might laugh at the perplexed questions Bucky is rattling off.

"So far, yeah. They even have a new name for me: Captain America."

There is a long pause. "You're Captain America?"

"Yeah, I did shows. Maybe you saw one of the ones they filmed? I had to wear tights." He thought Bucky would laugh at that part.

Instead, Bucky tugs on the back of Steve's leather jacket. "Wait, just stop for a second."

Steve spins to look at Bucky. "You feeling all right?"

Bucky tries to stand up straight and swats at Steve's hand that attempting to brace his shoulder. "Yeah--that's not it. Look, you're really--"

"Duck!" Steve grabs Bucky by the waist and ends up throwing him up and over a ramp to avoid a falling, flaming beam. "Maybe let's talk once we're out of here."

Bucky crawls over to a railing to raise himself up. "Yeah, Stevie. Good idea."

***

The march back to base doesn't allow Steve much time with Bucky. There are too many injured who need help, too many soldiers with questions needing answers. Bucky seems content enough to stay at Steve's side through most of the trip until they finally arrive with the rest of the POWs behind them.

Steve pulls up short in front of Chester Phillips and Peggy Carter. The colonel doesn't accept Steve's offer to surrender himself for disciplinary action, and Peggy teases him about being late when Steve holds up his busted radio.

"Hey, let's hear it for Captain America!" Bucky shouts to the cheers of the men. There is awe and wonder and pride mixed up in Bucky's voice, such that Steve chalks up the slight hitch in Bucky's voice before he says "Captain America" to the emotion of the day. Or maybe he'd been about to say, "Steve Rogers."

Steve doesn't know why it even registers in his mind in the overwhelming happiness and pride he's feeling. On their way back to the Allied camp, Bucky has taken the explanation of Captain America pretty well, asking very few questions, in fact. The catch in Bucky's voice is probably nothing, Steve tells himself. Maybe even just dust from the road.

***

Later, they don't talk about whatever it was that Bucky had wanted to discuss at the HYDRA weapons facility. Or maybe they did and it wasn't that important. Steve isn't sure. When they settle at the base, Steve is dragged into meetings with the colonel and Peggy. He doesn't see Bucky again until long after dinnertime.

Steve goes to wash up by a stream, and Bucky accompanies him.

"Did you let the docs check you out, Bucky?"

"Yeah, they couldn't find anything. Best guess is that I wasn't hooked up long enough to whatever Zola was feedin' me to matter."

"Good. If you start feeling bad, you go back to them, promise?" Steve peels off his shirt so he can wash off the sweat and dirt on his chest. He squats down on the ground and wets a cloth he'd brought with him.

"Yes, Ma."

Steve laughs and lifts his chin up toward Bucky's face, and then he wants to wrap himself up in the warm glow of Bucky's smile. "Serves you right for all those years of acting like a mother hen around me."

Bucky's gaze dips down to Steve's chest and torso, and his expression turns contemplative. "You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to you lookin' like this."

"Still me, Buck," Steve says with a shrug.

Bucky snorts. "I _know_ that. And hey, at least you ain't peeling off your skin to show some sort of crazy red face." Bucky pauses and gets the most mischievous look on his face that is already causing Steve to blush. "Wait, is it actually red, white and blue under that pasty skin? Is that why they call you Captain America?"

"Glad to know you're still so sensitive." Steve rocks his body backwards off his heels until he is sitting down, tipping his head to the side to encourage Bucky to join him.

"So, you got finished up with the colonel and that dame?"

"Yeah. I've got some maps I want you to look at tomorrow."

Bucky nods. "She seems nice." There is something heavy and _knowing_ in his voice.

"Peggy? I suppose." Steve did like Peggy. God, he hopes Bucky isn't interested in her. He can kind of see them together in his mind. "Your soulmark doesn't say Peggy Carter, does it?" Steve immediately flushes. He almost can't believe he'd asked the question. Beyond it being rude, it's the most direct thing he's said about it since he was sixteen.

Bucky stares down at him, his expression inscrutable but seemingly not angry. The answer comes slowly from his mouth. "No, it's not Peggy."

Steve, for once, isn't quick enough to hide his relief, but he quickly changes the subject. "Is there something you wanted to talk about earlier? Back at the castle you had something to say."

Bucky slowly lowers himself to the ground, sticking his legs straight out toward the stream and resting his weight on his palms behind him. He turns his head to look at Steve, and Bucky's eyes drop to Steve's chest for one millisecond. His lips thin, and he stretches them into a thinner smile. "Nah. Nothin' important. Can't even really remember."

Steve rubs his hand against his unmarked heart, his pectorals now providing firm shielding for the organ. "If you're sure."

"Put your shirt on, Steve. You're gonna get cold."

***

For over a year, they go on missions to destroy HYDRA operations that eventually lead them back to Zola in the snowy mountains. And Bucky continues to be the bravest and strongest person Steve knows.

Sometimes it feels like Bucky watches him a little more closely than he used to, but Steve supposes that is to be expected. It's war after all. It isn't as if Steve isn't terrified that something would happen to Bucky, too.

And then it does. And Steve doesn't need _James Barnes_ disappearing across his heart to know the man died because Steve watches it with his own eyes.

And it wouldn't have mattered what was written on Steve's skin because Bucky's death tears out Steve's jagged heart right through his skin. If Steve didn't know Bucky would kill him in the afterlife, Steve might throw himself right into that icy ravine alongside Bucky.

He can't, _won't_ , and he knows even the thought is selfish. There is more fighting to do. More bullies to punch. More moments to prove that Bucky's sacrifice isn't in vain.

But Steve doesn't even make it an entire three days without Bucky watching his back.

As he flies the plane into icy Arctic, it's Bucky's voice he hears welcoming him.

_Just breathe for me, Stevie._


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up in a new century. It doesn't go so well.

Steve blinks awake to an unfamiliar hospital room, a Dodgers game playing on the radio. The sheets beneath him are stiff and scratchy. The fact he is lying on top of them, and not underneath, is a bit…odd. The back of his neck prickles, like an enemy has him in sight, and Steve sits up. For the life of him, he can't figure out how he is even in a hospital when the last thing he remembers is crashing into the Arctic. It just doesn't seem possible.

A nurse enters the room. She shifts uncomfortably and feigns confusion when Steve demands answers. The knowledge that he couldn't have survived the crash hardens like a fist in his gut.

The sound of splintering plaster and lumber tears through the air when Steve tosses two guards or soldiers or whatever the heck they are through a wall. From there, a few more guys pounce but he throws them off. He barely notices the wide lobby he darts through before finding himself outside.

He runs. Adrenaline pushes through his veins as the summer air pumps through his nostrils. The smell is different than it should be, more metallic somehow. A sense of unease wraps itself around Steve's heart until it begins to choke him. He sprints down a street until he slows to take in his surroundings. The place looks like Times Square but not. Flashing, moving signs force him to blink hard. Then he looks back down at the small, peculiar cars and the oddly, scantily dressed people. He freezes in his tracks.

But it's when he looks down and catches the hint of writing just above the low neckline of his white T-shirt that Steve knows he has woken up in the wrong universe.

Something has gone awfully, terribly wrong.

The sounds of honking and people talking diminish around him, and Steve yanks down his shirt several inches to read the two words written in scrolling, stark black. His legs go weak.

Cars with mirrored windows surround him. Steve doesn't look at them. The one-eyed man who'd followed him starts saying something about Steve being asleep for almost seventy years, but Steve barely registers it.

As far as Steve is concerned, Bucky died three days ago (it couldn't' really be seventy years), and now Steve has this soulmark. It's a joke, an atrocious, unspeakable, joke. It isn't even a real name.

It isn't _James Barnes_.

Steve hunches over and dry heaves onto the pavement, his stomach clenching like a twisted vise. _I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this._

Someone near Steve clears their throat, and he barely hears it. Steve stands, takes a breath, and looks around the bright lights of the square, ignoring the group of pedestrians that has clustered around the barrier of cars to gawk.

"You gonna be okay?" the one-eyed man asks.

Steve doesn't know how to answer. How could anything be okay when _Winter_ _Soldier_ is inscribed upon his skin?

***

Steve had thought nothing could make him feel further from Bucky than his passing. Waking up in a foreign, unfathomable future with a stranger's name on Steve's chest proves there are aching chasms of his heart that yawn wider than the unstoppered fissure of death.

***

Steve keeps to himself for a few months, trying to adjust to the world with the war long over. Barely sleeps in that time. Attempts to keep active with jogging and a punching bag.

He gets a black, self-adhering patch to cover the writing on his chest. There is no need to use the white tape that barely stuck to anyone's skin back in Steve's time, the lousy product Steve saw Bucky compulsively change every day. This patch, he is told, will stay on for months, even in the shower.

He needs to purchase an unusually large patch, because Steve's soulmark is huge, stretching from just above his nipple to the center of his chest and then up several inches.

Some people believe that a large soulmark means an extremely deep bond. Steve knows that's superstition. He is living proof.

Steve pretends his chest is still bare. He thinks of Bucky every time he closes his eyes.

Then Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. gives him a mission to help recover the Tesseract from Loki, and he has a purpose again.

By the end, Steve has made a few friends, and they have saved the world. The Avengers are nothing like any of the Howling Commandos, particularly Howard Stark's son, but Steve thinks that it's perhaps for the best. He doesn't trust any of them quite like he had his former friends. None of them have the sincerity and honed sense of righteousness of his old compatriots. They have honor, he has found, but it's different from what his fellow soldiers had in the '40s. They all carry secrets.

Not that Steve doesn't have a history of secrecy, so he doesn't judge them for it.

***

Sam, who he meets while jogging in D.C., reminds Steve the most of his old friends. Perhaps it's the military background, or perhaps it's the sharp but well-intentioned sense of humor.

Maybe it's the way his loyalty is so easily earned. Sam trusts others more than any of the Avengers.

Steve thinks of Bucky the most when he is around Sam. But it feels comfortable in a way, like a bit of Bucky is still around.

***

It's Tony, of all people, who asks the question. Though Steve shouldn't have been surprised given Tony's penchant for nosiness and audaciousness.

"So, back when you became a Capsicle, did you leave behind a soulmate?" He is half hidden behind DUM-E in his workshop, tinkering with an open panel on the robot's back. Tony's movements still, though he doesn't look up, and that is how Steve knows Tony is more in earnest than he is pretending.

Steve sighs. "Not one that is written on my chest. But yeah, I did lose someone."

Tony flicks his gaze quickly toward Steve and then back at the robot. "I bet she was a hell of a woman."

"Hell of a man, actually." Which is nice to say out loud, finally.

Tony chokes, making a ridiculous face as he coughs and shakes his head. It takes him almost a minute to recover. "I did not see that one coming! Whole world view: Blown."

"I sincerely doubt you've ever given it much thought."

"True." He taps the screwdriver he's holding against his hand as he regards Steve. "Is that the first time you've told anybody?" He points the tool down and gives it a little twirl. "Right here. To me?"

"Yes."

Tony looks positively smug, and Steve regrets everything already. "I am so honored to be your first, Cap. I promise to treat you gently."

"Shut up." Steve chuckles, raking his hand through his hair. He's glad that Tony keeps the conversation light, that he doesn't dig deeper.

And it feels good that someone, somewhere, and maybe seventy years too late, knows that Steve had been in love.

He isn't ready to talk about Bucky--it hasn't even been a year since Steve lost him--but maybe one day.

***

Steve dreams. Some of them are good. Bucky holding Steve while easing him through asthma attacks. A shirtless Bucky trying to show Steve some boxing moves. (That one is a definite favorite.) Bucky telling him he'd be with him "'til the end of the line." Bucky staring at the stars above the Italian countryside. Bucky laughing.

But there are just as many nightmares, some crueler than others.

_They are lying on a bed in a bright white room, light flooding in from a bank of lead-glass windows. Bucky trails his fingers along Steve's jaw, following closely with the gentle drag of his lips. "I love you."_

_Steve gasps--he’ll never tire of hearing the declaration— kisses Bucky deeply, and then tugs at the hem of his T-shirt._

_Bucky’s lips curl into a wicked smile, and his eyes are smoky and hooded. "You first, doll. Been waiting to get my hands on you."_

_As Bucky pushes himself up on his arms, Steve takes a surreptitious look at the man's biceps. Steve traces one finger down the curve of muscles before he snags his own white shirt and pulls it up over his head and then lies back down._

_Bucky freezes, and Steve doesn't understand what is wrong. The air goes still and unnaturally quiet. "Bucky?"_

_Bucky's gaze falls to Steve's chest, and he places his hand over Steve's chest. The touch freezes like ice in Steve's veins. Steve's breath becomes visible as in the bitterest of winters._

_"I love you, Stevie," Bucky says, "but you're not mine. You were never mine."_

_"No! I love you! No one else matters--"_

_"I was never yours."_

_And then Bucky is falling, falling._

Steve wakes in a cold sweat, throat scratchy and raw, and rips at the soulmark on his chest with his nails. Bad dreams as a rule no longer keep Steve awake anymore. He has too many of them to give them that power.

But this one, this one, has too many elements of the truth not to make his brain run haywire. Sometime in the 1920's, Steve had fallen irreversibly in love with Bucky Barnes. But Steve never so much as hinted to Bucky that he felt that way. And as for Bucky, Steve doubts the man felt the same.

Bucky had gotten his soulmark at the age of seventeen. He'd known there was someone else out there for him. It would have been foolish for him to look twice at Steve, not when he knew his soulmate existed.

For Steve, it had been different. It was easy for Steve to fall for anyone he chose. Steve has always been proud of that part--he _chose_ Bucky, time and again, over and over. If there wasn't a name of Steve's chest, then he was free to choose who was meant for him.

And even though he'd known he had Bucky on borrowed time, that Bucky would eventually fall in love with someone else, Steve always thought loving Bucky was the best decision he'd made.

Steve hasn't looked at the name on his chest in months, and he regrets like hell that his choice has been taken away.

***

Natasha begins teasing Steve about finding a girl. It's entertaining though futile. Steve doesn't trust the spy enough to tell her that it would be a man if he is going to ask someone to go on a date. He doesn't want any more information going back to S.H.I.E.L.D. about himself than necessary.

But Steve isn't planning on asking anyone out, not anytime soon. Maybe one day, but not now. Maybe, but just the idea makes Steve's heart wither in his chest. Bucky may have died seventy years ago according to the history books but not according to Steve's own measure of time.

Even if Bucky had known and reciprocated Steve's feelings, Steve knows his friend would never have wanted Steve to go on alone. But Bucky still loses a lot of arguments with Steve in his head these days. Bucky would have to suck it up.

***

Blood rushes out of Nick Fury's chest onto Steve's apartment floor, and Steve takes off in pursuit of the shooter.

Glass sprays like an autumn deluge as Steve explodes through his window and lands inside the neighboring building. He catches sight of the shooter running above him, and Steve quickens his pace--and can barely keep up. The man moves like no one Steve's seen before. Recklessly, Steve careens down long hallways and smashes through walls. He leaps through another window onto a rooftop just as the shooter lands on it from above.

Cold air fills Steve's gasping lungs as the man is about to jump off the roof. Steve throws his shield with all his might. At the last moment, the shooter turns and catches the shield with what looks to be a metal arm extended straight out from his body.

The move is lightning fast.

Steve's jaw drops in shock as he regards the shooter. He commits everything to memory that he can. Dark brown hair, white skin visible above a black mask that covers everything below his cold eyes. Too dark outside to see their color. Around Steve's age but difficult to tell. Black leather and Kevlar. Red star on the metallic arm.

Then the man shifts and hurls the shield right back at Steve. Breath gusts out of Steve's lungs. In the split second it takes Steve to catch the shield before it collides with his waist, the man disappears into the night.

Like a ghost.

***

Steve finds Natasha, and everything in his life shifts once more.

"I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the 'Winter Soldier.'"

It takes all of Steve's determination not to flinch back at the name. _The Winter Soldier_. He hasn't given the man much thought these past two years. Hasn't ever been interested in finding him.

"He's credited with over two dozen assassinations during the last fifty years," she adds.

"So, he's a ghost story." He doesn't know why he says it. The writing on his chest proves the assassin is real. Real. The air seems thin all of a sudden, like in the moments before an asthma attack all those years ago. Steve tries to breathe through it.

He listens as Natasha explains how she was shot by the Winter Soldier. How the man is impossible to find. A true ghost.

Steve takes a deep breath, thinks of Bucky. Hears his voice urging him on. _Just breathe for me, Stevie._

Steve squares his shoulder and nods at Natasha. They set about finding the assassin.

A threat like the Winter Soldier requires elimination.

***

Knowing the identity of his "soulmate" unlocks something in Steve's chest, something he isn't proud of but wholeheartedly embraces. Something new to this upside-down century. Fury's death makes it easy for Steve. Up until then, he thought there was a chance that he might forgive his soulmate for taking up the precious space meant for someone else on his chest.

Had it been a war veteran or an active duty soldier, Steve could have almost seen it. Steve is fair; it isn't the other man's fault for existing.

But _him_? The man who killed Nick Fury? Killed dozens of others? Steve can _hate_ him. His crimes justify the roiling emotions that have churned in Steve's chest these last two years whenever he'd paused to consider the existence of his soulmate. Steve had felt guilty that he'd condemned an innocent man.

But hating the Winter Soldier is easy.

The Winter Soldier is no innocent, and Steve lets his anger at the whole god-damned universe--that stole Bucky and then dropped Steve into this lonesome future--intensify and cascade through his gut like an infectious venom. And he focuses all that rage on his so-called soulmate.

Steve doesn't know what he'd done in his life that he deserved a cold-blooded killer's name across his heart, but Steve isn't going to take it. He has a track record of not accepting what fate hands him, and the Winter Soldier is going to top that list.

It crosses Steve's mind more than once that his soulmark would fade away if the Winter Soldier died. Steve's torn and twisted heart would be blank again.

A wretched piece of Steve's soul revels in the idea.

No. No, no. It's an unworthy thought. Steve might hate the assassin, but he'll treat him no differently than any other criminal--no matter how much he resents the space dedicated to the man on Steve's skin. If lethal force is required, so be it. But Steve won't go looking for opportunities if other means are available. Like anyone else.

He'll bring the Winter Soldier to justice--do whatever is necessary to obtain it--and then he'll walk away. He'll let the bastard rot in prison. Steve smiles viciously.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way.

***

Sometimes Steve wonders if Bucky's soulmate ever came looking for information about the man. Until the war, Steve and Bucky were the only two people who could have answered questions about the other. After Bucky fell and Steve crashed, there were plenty of people who could have told the person about "Sergeant James Barnes" and probably his connection to "Captain America." But, there weren't many people around who could have spoken about Bucky and Steve. Just a few friends who knew them for a short while during the war.

It saddens Steve to know that for a man whose shadow loomed so large over Steve's life, Bucky's legacy was small to anyone else. His friend was barely more than a footnote in the "Captain America Story," a historian's tool to illustrate the tragic sacrifices made by the "national icon."

Steve finds one article written by a doctoral student at Cornell postulating that Steve and Bucky were soulmates given their unique devotion to each other. The theory is quickly dismissed as junk by almost every other scholar who bothers to comment.

Steve laughs and laughs.

***

The Winter Soldier's plans don't align with Steve's. He comes crashing back into Steve's life by landing on Sam's car and dragging Sitwell through the window. The car is moving so fast they never hear Sitwell hit the ground. The soldier doesn't even fall down when Sam slams on the brakes and throws him. He just jumps back on the car and rips out the steering wheel. The car goes careening on its side in a squeal of burning rubber and collapsing metal.

It's the most frighteningly destructive series of events Steve has seen from one man. The guy has no weaknesses. Every ounce of him is deadly, and the back of Steve's neck buzzes with sharp, cold fright.

Steve is blasted out of action before he can even mount a fight. He wakes up in an overturned bus and has to wrestle his way back to where Natasha is confronting the assassin.

The man shoots Natasha. Prepares to execute her. Smoke from the explosions gives the air a muffled quality, and the smell of it mixed with gasoline is enough to choke Steve's lungs.

Steve's eyes sting, but his fist remains ready. He launches his shield, giving Natasha an escape. He and the assassin fight, grappling with fists then knives.

The Winter Soldier is in control. Steve's moves are defensive, and he isn't sure he is going to come out of this one alive. They are his grunts that are louder, the other man's moves that hit harder.

Then Steve strikes the guy's chest with his shield. Right where his soulmark, Steve's name, should be underneath the black leather. The Winter Soldier staggers, and Steve manages to bury his shield in the guy's arm. The sound of metal hitting metal reverberates too loud in Steve's ears. They stand so close Steve can hear the soldier's breath grate against his mask. And Steve has a moment, an opportunity, to drive his shield into his neck. It is necessary. It's time.

Steve's soulmark burns like a flare against his skin, and Steve…hesitates. Stares at the wide expanse of chest above the assassin's heart. _Just breathe for me_ , his brain provides out of nowhere.

The soldier recovers just enough. Steve has likely signed his own death certificate.

He won't falter again, Steve vows.

There’s still an opening, though not a lethal one. He yanks the assassin down while flipping him into the air at the same time.

The mask comes off. It lands on the ground with a distinct clank in the smoky air. The assassin is standing before the sound even stills.

Steve's eyes move from the wretched mask to the soldier's face. Steel blue eyes. Wide mouth. Cleft chin.

" _Bucky_?"

Steve lowers his shield, and stares, astonished, feeling the whole world shift and crack like thin ice on a frozen lake underneath his feet.

Not a flicker of recognition registers on Bucky's face. "Who the hell's Bucky?"

In the following explosions, Bucky disappears, and Steve can't catch his breath.

***

No one ever asks about the actual name on Steve's chest. Everyone, even Tony who'd come the closest, assumes that person died long ago or perhaps is one hundred years old. No one ever suspects it is someone in the present.

Now, Steve realizes, Fury and whoever is working for him must have seen it after they rescued Steve from the ice. They had to know he was matched to the assassin and never told him.

He wonders if Fury knew it was Bucky all along.

***

After the confrontation, Steve is holding in too many emotions to put up much of a fight against the STRIKER team that shoves Steve, Natasha and Sam into the back of a white van.

_Bucky is alive._

Steve feels like he's standing in Times Square all over again, a foreign name written on his skin.

The fall from the ravine should have killed Bucky. If Steve had thought there was _any_ chance of finding him alive, Steve would have climbed down that ravine with his bare hands to rescue him.

_Bucky isn't the same man._

An understatement. This Bucky is ruthless and cold. This Bucky is strategic. And those fighting moves? Bucky had always been handy with a gun or rifle and god knows he could box, but martial arts moves like that? The knives? Where had he learned it all?

_Bucky is the Winter Soldier._                       

_Bucky is his soulmate._

Steve wants to curl up and press his forehead to his knees. He is caught in the tangle between overjoyed and sliced open and bare. His fists tremble in the restraining device that anchors Steve to the steel wall of the van.

Steve shakes his head, trying to clear it. Natasha is bleeding, and the STRIKER team is no doubt taking the threesome somewhere to kill them without witnesses. Steve should care more, should be focusing on a plan to get them out. But his brain keeps coming back to Bucky.

***

If Agent Hill hadn't come, Steve is certain he would have let down his team. He swears to himself that he will save Bucky but also save the team, too. He won't let them down again, none of them.

***

Fury is alive, and Steve has questions he wants answered. First, he has to make it clear that both SHIELD and HYDRA must end as they debrief the days' events. When Bucky's identity comes up, Fury's gaze flicks up to see Steve's face.

Steve keeps his expression impassive. He doesn't want to discuss _everything else_ until the mission is clear.

Fury relents about SHIELD and consents to halting it along with HYDRA. Then, and only then, Steve clears the room.

Steve sits, arms folded across his chest, in a metal chair a few feet from Fury. "Why didn't you tell me about my soulmate? You had to have seen the mark."

Fury sighs. "Well, Cap, I figured if you wanted to know, you'd ask."

"In my apartment, when you handed me the flash drive, did you know it was the Winter Soldier who was trying to kill you?"

"Yes."

"So you set me on a collision course with him without warning?"

"I was kinda busy getting shot."

Fair point, Steve admits to himself, and he turns his head away to stare at an open laptop on the table.

"I didn't know about Barnes," Fury says.

"Would that have changed anything if you did?" Steve knows full well Fury would have hid the information. He doesn't reveal anything unless it gives him a tactical advantage.

"Look, Cap, don't go getting any ideas that you can save this man. I hope you're smart enough to know that. You've got no idea the kind of monster he is."

Steve shudders almost painfully and closes his eyes. "And you have no idea the _man_ he is."

"And you do?" Fury challenges. Even wounded and recovering from injuries, he manages to sound both belligerent and dominant.

"Yes."

***

He warns Sam and Natasha about Bucky being his soulmate. He doesn't go into the details, but he won't put them or the mission at risk by keeping it secret. HYDRA needs to be stopped no matter what.

In a bathroom stall, he takes off his shirt and peels the black patch from his chest for the first time in months. He looked down at the writing, tracing the "W" with his index finger.

He'd spent years wanting Bucky's name across his heart and never got it. And then he got this one, and despised it.

Why hadn't it been easier?

***

The words burn in Steve's throat as he speaks over the Triskelion's intercom: _"I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."_

It isn't a choice. Steve knows it, as much as he desperately desires to save Bucky. Freedom, millions of lives saved, could come at the cost of his life and of Bucky's.

And if that is the case, he is going to meet the Winter Soldier as Captain America. Steve isn't sure he could do it as Steve.

He promises himself, he promises, that the second that mission is complete, once the helicarriers are destroyed, he'll save Bucky.

Steve just hopes he hasn't had to stop Bucky before then.

***

Sometime after fleeing the STRIKER team's van but before jumping on any helicarriers, Steve thinks about that moment on the highway when Steve hesitated to shove his shield into the Winter Soldier's neck.

If _James Barnes_ had been written all along on Steve's heart, there was every chance that Steve would have killed Bucky that day.

Now, when he gently traces his fingers across _Winter Soldier_ , it's with a feeling of gratitude for the first time.

***

"People are going to die, Buck. I can't let that happen." Bucky blocks the narrow ramp between Steve and the housing for data chips on the helicarrier. Steve moves forward, braces his feet to attack. "Please don't make me do this."

They fight because millions of people can't afford for Steve to hesitate. Bucky shoots him. Bucky stabs him. They grapple and kick and nearly lose the data chip.

Steve now lives in a world where he has tried to choke the life out of Bucky Barnes. Has felt his body go slack under Steve's stranglehold. Steve can't afford to think about it.

The air is thin on the helicarrier. It's with several deep breaths that Steve manages to get back to the housing of the data chips while Bucky lies motionless a floor below.

Blood smears Steve's hands when Bucky wakes up and shoots Steve in the stomach. But Bucky is too far away and not quick enough to stop Steve from inserting the data chip.

Steve orders the helicarriers to fire on each other. There's no time for Steve to escape, not with Bucky still on board and trying to undo Steve's work. It means…well, Steve knows what it means. But he can't risk millions' lives, even for Bucky.

The explosions are swift, thorough. The heat of them scorches Steve's skin. He looks down at his bloody suit and almost expects it to have burnt off. The helicarrier begins to fall, and Steve sees Bucky trapped underneath a large steel beam. It leaves Steve no choice.

Steve, ignoring the pain and blood flowing from his stomach, lifts the beam as Bucky crawls out. "You know me."

"No, I don't!" Bucky's fist cracks across Steve's jaw.

Steve tries again. And again. To reach Bucky, to get beyond the Winter Soldier.

"I'm not going to fight you. You're my friend."

"You're my mission." Bucky's voice is rough and angry, and Steve's heart is breaking.

Steve knows they're not getting out of this together. That for one to escape, the other will have to prevail. And while Steve could put the lives of citizens above Bucky's, he could never put himself before his friend. "Then finish it because I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

There's a split second when the world seems to pause. Then a look of horror, of bone-deep recognition, passes across Bucky's face.

The glass beneath Steve breaks. He falls, a thousand feet into the air, like another piece of debris, blood from his wounds rushing to beat him to the end point. Into the water. Steve stops breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to you guys who've been reading. I'm hoping to post the last chapter around the same time next week. Yay for happy endings.


	3. Spring (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life starts looking up for Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys, I decided to split this chapter into two parts as it had ballooned to over 10,000 words and I'm not finished yet. So, I decided to give you the first part so that I published something this week. Hopefully, it'll only be a few more days for Part II.

Somewhere around Vilnius, Steve admits that the reunion he'd hoped for might not happen.

Bucky has escaped again, this time by minutes. Steam still clings to the walls from when Bucky had showered. He'd raided a former HYDRA facility just that morning. Most of the time Bucky targets individuals and not entire bases. He's being careful and smart, which should be a relief to Steve but it has the drawback of making it a lot harder to find the man.

Steve, through sheer chance, had been in Latvia when Sam got a call about the destruction of the HYDRA base. They were only three hours away.

They found the base--Bucky hadn't left much--then found a trail, asked some questions, and got lucky.

Bucky seemed to have a sixth sense about Steve, though, and got out of the stolen apartment, this time not leaving a trace.

"I hate to say it. But the dude doesn't want to be found, and I'm not sure we're gonna catch him 'til he does." Sam is picking through a few receipts left on the beaten coffee table. "He's the Winter Soldier. Natasha couldn't even find him."

Steve sits down on the plaid couch. It looks like something out of Steve's era more than anything anyone would purchase these days. He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes before dropping his palms against his jean-clad thighs. "I know. I just--don't know what to do."

"I don't get it either. Usually soulmates are all about being around their mates. Impossible to resist the pull. But Barnes? Goes on a HYDRA killing spree in Russia, Austria, and Lithuania."

Steve grits his teeth. "He doesn't feel the pull."

"What?"

"We haven't actually soulbonded."

Sam's mouth falls open and he makes a series of aborted, stuttered sounds. "You've known him your whole life! How the hell haven't you soulbonded?"

"He had a mark, but I didn't get mine until I woke up in the present. As far as he knows, I'm still a blank."

Sam falls down on the sofa beside Steve. The weight makes the thin cushions sink down, pulling Steve toward the other man.

"Well...shit." Sam looks at Steve with wide, amazed eyes, then drops his gaze to his lap. "But if he's got a mark, then I still don't get it. It says your name, right? Wouldn't he at least be curious and come find you?"

"I never saw it. And I don't think it says my name."

"Yeah…that's not possible."

Steve lets one of his shoulders lift and descend. "My mark doesn't say 'James Barnes.' It says 'Winter Soldier.'"

Sam looks confused for a moment, then his mouth falls open. "You think his says 'Captain America.'"

"Looking back at things, his reactions… I do." He couldn't be sure, of course, but he…hoped.

"But why wouldn't he tell you when you showed up all decked out in red, white and blue?"

"That, I think, is what you modern folk would call the 'sixty-four thousand dollar question.'"

Sam puffs out his cheeks before letting the air rush out. "Fuck," he commiserates.

"Yeah."

"No reprimand for language," Sam laughs, "Man, it must be bad." Several beats pass, and he snorts. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but I bet he felt like the biggest tool on Earth when ' _Captain America'_ showed up across his chest. I know like literally millions of people would kill for that now, but before you became _you_ , he must have thought he was soulmated to some sort of pretentious, patriotic asshole." He pauses and punches Steve in the shoulder with the side of his hand. "Guess that's exactly what he got after all."

"Thanks, Sam." But Steve cracks a tiny smile. "You know I still use that name, right?"

"Yeah, but it makes sense in context now. And you punched old Adolph in the face enough to scare anyone who might say otherwise."

***

After Bucky rescued Steve from the water, Steve had hope that Bucky might find him. He has put together all sorts of unrealistic scenarios in his head about what they'd say.

But somehow the dream of telling Bucky the words on his chest is becoming more distant. Steve doesn't know what Bucky does or doesn't remember, but he sure as hell has it out for HYDRA.

The file from Natasha on Bucky is the first thing that makes Steve realize that the Bucky he'd known could in no way be the man that would live in the 21st century. Torture and pain and death and orders for over seventy years have dealt untold damage, things Steve can't even imagine.

It won't just be a matter of Bucky recovering his memories as Steve had first naively believed, but of learning to live with himself in the aftermath of the destruction his body had caused.

Steve can't decide if Bucky's determination to tear apart all the remnants of HYDRA is a step forward or not.

Steve forces himself to stop thinking the words, "The Bucky I knew wouldn't--"

The Bucky Steve knew is probably long gone. Hell, the Steve Bucky knew is a distant memory, too, and he never experienced the type of horrors HYDRA had visited upon Bucky.

Sometimes Steve wonders if that is why _Winter Soldier_ is written on his heart and not _James Barnes._ Is it because his soulmate is the man Bucky would become in the aftermath of HYDRA and not the man Steve loved so dearly before?

And if Steve is right, and _Captain America_ graces Bucky's chest, is it because fate was trying to prepare them for the very different men they would be?

Still, it would've been a heck of a lot easier if it were just _Steven Rogers_ and _James Barnes._ Steve will stick with that.

***

Steve chases Bucky to one more city, Barcelona, before deciding to go back home. They'd tracked Bucky for almost a year, never even seeing the man once.

It's clear Bucky doesn't want to be caught. Doesn't want to see Steve.

And Steve feels like he needs to respect that. After seventy years of not controlling his actions, Bucky deserves to command his own fate.

He just wishes he had a way to tell Bucky to find Steve when he is ready.

That's not quite true--he also wishes he had a way to make this not hurt so much.

***

Steve thinks back to Sam's words about Bucky getting his soulmark. Steve can almost picture Bucky's dismay and derision, probably muttering and cursing under his breath over the idiot he'd gotten bonded to.

Then Steve thinks of his own reaction to _Winter Soldier._ How he hated Bucky without knowing it was him.

Had Bucky hated Captain America? Was he disappointed it wasn't Steve's name?

Or worse, was he is disappointed when it turned out it was?

***

Bruce helps Steve find an apartment in New York. Tony offers, but he has no concept of price and keeps proposing to buy an entire building. ("New York real estate is a good investment, Cap! Everyone knows this. It's a thing!")

They find a two-bedroom apartment on a tree-lined brownstone block in Brooklyn, only a handful of streets from Steve's house as a child. It has beautiful, large windows from the '20s, and the updates have kept true to the original design. The neighborhood is totally changed, too many Starbucks and too many babies being pushed in designer strollers that cost more than what Bucky and Steve earned in an entire year back in the '40s. Still, it feels more like home than anywhere else he'd lived this century.

Bruce helps Steve move in, and Steve cooks Bruce spaghetti with meat sauce in thanks. It's Bucky's recipe--or an attempt at it, anyways. Bucky had begged the recipe off of an Italian girl who lived two blocks away from them back in 1940. He'd had to swear on his life never to share it. ("On my knees, with my hand over my heart, Stevie, but it's worth it.") Steve has been trying to replicate it ever since. He's come pretty close this time given the delighted moan Bruce makes at his first bite.

Steve knows Bruce would understand better than almost anyone what Bucky must be going through now, the horror of someone else having control over your body. Bruce knows about dealing with aftermath. About running and hiding.

But Steve can't bring himself to intrude on Bruce's privacy. Instead, he finds himself asking other questions that evening.

"I know this isn't your area of expertise, but I'm betting you know anyway. What's the oldest age anyone has received their soulmark these days?"

Bruce quirks an eyebrow at Steve as he finishes chewing and then wipes his mouth with the paper towel that is currently serving as a napkin. "I think there is a case of someone getting their mark at age twenty-eight back in the '80s. After that, I think there have been multiple cases of people at age twenty-four."

Steve absently traces a circle in the condensation on his glass. "Any new theories as to why it happened so late to them?"

"No, try as we might, science really hasn't come very far when it comes to understanding soulmarks."

Steve looks up into Bruce's eyes. "I was twenty-seven. Ninety-five, depending on how you look at it."

Bruce's brows lift in surprise. "It was there when you…"

"When I woke up from the ice. It isn't the person's conventional name, either. Have you ever heard of that?"

Bruce leans back in his chair and angles his head. "What do you mean? Like a nickname?"

"A codename, actually."

"Please say it's not Iron Man," Bruce replies in a mostly flat tone, though a thread of desperation bleeds through.

Steve barks out a laugh. "No! God, no. Can you even imagine?"

Bruce chuckles in return and takes a sip of his iced tea. "No offense, but I think if you guys were soulmates, it would be the final straw that put Tony over the line for super villain."

"None taken." Because, yeah, while he loves Tony, there is no way they could be around each other 24/7 without one of them trying to kill the other. And Tony is already the one with all the mad scientific experiments.

"So, not Iron Man. Then…" Bruce's eyes widen with realization and some mix of pity and horror. "Christ, Steve, is it--"

"Yeah," Steve says quietly.

Bruce actually jumps out of his chair and waves his hands around in the air. "But you guys were both alive back then. You knew each other."

"I'm well aware."

"Did he have a mark?"

"Since he was seventeen. I never saw what it said." He sometimes prayed to God it said what he hoped it would.

Bruce slumps back down to sit.

From there, Steve finds himself easing into the story of his life, all the things the press and the history books don't know about his childhood and the years following, but what amount to the most important parts of Steve's life.

Bruce sits quietly as he listens, only asking an occasional soft question. They sit at the round wooden table for at least two hours, having long finished the pasta and drunk the entire pitcher of tea. When Steve is through, Bruce says, "Well, after all that, I'm surprised _you're_ not on the express train to super-villain."

Steve laughs at the gentle teasing until tears blur his vision, and he knows it isn't that funny, but it's the first time he's told anyone _everything_ , and it's just such a tremendous relief.

"Look," Bruce says, bracing himself against the round kitchen table with his forearms, "I'm no expert on soulmates, and I tend to be pretty damn cynical about them. Some of that comes from personal experience, and maybe some of it comes from me not liking things I can't explain."

"Why do I have this feeling of dread coming over me?" Steve jokes.

"You shouldn't." Bruce is firm, and, because Bruce is Bruce, Steve listens. "Because that story you just told me--it means fate had a purpose in mind for you. If he had 'Captain America' written on him back when you were only Steve Rogers--and that seems logical--and you were blank all those years only to have 'Winter Soldier' when you woke up in this era, then that strikes me as intentional. That took planning in a way that maybe no other soulmate's name has."

Steve stares down at a brown spot on his makeshift napkin. He whispers the fear that has gripped him ever since he woke up after his fall from the helicarrier, "It seems like maybe the plan has come to its conclusion."

Bruce reaches across the table and wraps his fingers around Steve's wrist. "You've known each other since you were kids. Hell Steve, you've loved him since you were a kid, and you both somehow found yourselves in a new century, and both got made into super-soldiers. This isn't…coincidence. And if some power put all this effort into those names, lined up all those dominos and put them in motion, then I have to think there's more for you in the end. No way does it stop here in limbo."

Steve takes a deep breath, and another. Lets himself believe Bruce is right. Lets it stick.

And smiles.

***

If Steve goes more than four months without hearing anything about the Winter Soldier, he'll go looking for him. That's Steve's rule. Steve wants Bucky to have his independence, but he can't abide the idea of Bucky in captivity again. So, he'll go looking if he goes too long without any word.

In that next year, the longest Steve goes without a whisper of Bucky is thirteen weeks. Bucky seems to be keeping former HYDRA operatives pretty damn busy.

Steve marks every day on the calendar. It reminds him of the days early in the war when he checked the newspapers to make sure Bucky was still alive.

Now Steve only has to look at his heart to know Bucky is alive, but he still doesn't know if Bucky is safe.

Steve thinks of Bruce's words, and he allows himself to hold onto hope.

***

In the spirit of believing things will turn out well, Steve asks Tony to use any political channels he has to pave the way for Bucky to return to the United States with a pardon. To Steve's undying gratitude, Tony immediately sets his lawyers upon it. Steve suspects, though Tony denies it, that Tony himself makes a lot of phone calls and greases a lot of hands along the way.

In the end, Steve makes a lot of concessions to keep Bucky from ever seeing the inside of a jail cell. Mostly it amounts to therapy for Bucky and Bucky living with him for three years. They will have to forego some privacy during those years, but Steve mostly believes it's fair.

Steve thinks it's almost too easy to get the federal government on board, but he supposes Tony's threat to have his lawyers sue the government on Bucky's behalf for an astronomical sum spurred them to action. As it turns out, Alexander Pierce and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s involvement with HYDRA and their knowing torture and mind control of Bucky is one of many viable claims Bucky has against the government. ( _"Does he want to own the White House? I think we could get him the White House," Tony asks. "How about Mount Rushmore? Or I bet we could get his face put on Mt. Rushmore. We'll have him replace Roosevelt. That seems reasonable."_ ) The government is more than willing to make a deal, and within six months, Bucky Barnes is no longer a wanted man in the United States.

He even has a sizable bank account, courtesy of Uncle Sam, waiting for him.

Steve's waiting for him, too.

***

Steve fights some giant spiders, three super villains, and one tentacle monster.

He tries to learn more about modern day technology. He learns his lesson about aluminum foil in the microwave. Sam helps him set up Wi-Fi. Tony gifts him a gaming system. Every day he feels a little less adrift in this century.

But Steve checks his soulmark every day, too, making sure it's still dark and visible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Bucky shows up soon!


	4. Spring (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion, a soulmark reveal, a happy ending!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, so after spending two-thirds of this fic covering about 90 years of story, the last third is dedicated to a single day. Go figure.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this! I'm also super appreciative of the kudos and comments. *blows kisses*
> 
> Also, for those interested, I wrote a few of my thoughts about the end result of the soulmarks in the end notes. Definite spoilers contained therein.

It's long past midnight when Steve toes off his stiff leather shoes in his front hall. That evening's charity gala had benefited the rec center for at-risk youths where he sometimes volunteered. Steve had been happy to help raise money, but the long night of socializing drained him to the point he'd lost track of conversations and was dragging his feet at the end.

He starts tugging at the bowtie of his tuxedo before he even makes it to the kitchen. An undercabinet fixture that he'd left on provides just enough light for him to see. Steve grabs a cup from the cabinet, then spins around to the island to flip on the water faucet.

"You look like a matinee idol, Stevie."

Steve's heart spasms hard in his chest at the low, drawling voice. The darkness of the living area reveals nothing to his eyes, but he recognizes that tone, knows it as well as his own. The glass falls from his hand and clatters in the sink. "Bucky?"

The lamp switch clicks as light floods the living room from the far corner. Bucky, dressed in jeans and a grey, long-sleeve tee, sits in a leather armchair by the window.

"Yeah." There is something defensive in the set of Bucky's jaw but nervous in the shape of his eyes.

Steve freezes—he's not sure for how long—paralyzed with fear he's hallucinating, until Bucky stands and says, "Just breathe, Stevie."

Air rushes out of Steve's lungs at the familiarity of the old words. He can't move, and he watches as Bucky slowly walks toward him, leaning into Steve's space and turning off the running faucet. The heat of Bucky's body melts over him like chocolate pouring over an oven-warm cake.

Steve tries to catalog every detail of the man. Bucky looks…healthy. His hair is down past his shoulders, and he needs to shave, but his skin looks tan and his weight appears normal.

And he looks—he looks so _good._ In these two years of anxiety and desperation, Steve had almost forgotten how ridiculously handsome Bucky was. He hadn't had the time to remember Bucky's twinkling eyes or the startling slash of white teeth across his face when he smiles.

It all rushes over him once again. Like a summer wind on a rocky coast, breaking and bending and permeating him.

"You remember me?" Steve battles back tears and holds himself still, drinking in Bucky's presence. _He's here, he's here._

Bucky nods. "I remember most of it one way or the other."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks gently, not wanting to spook Bucky and unsure of how easily that feat might be accomplished. He rubs at his elbow and discovers his hand is trembling.

"I remember the stuff from the past with you…and the stuff with HYDRA, but it's like it happened to someone else. Like neither is quite me, yet both are."

Steve contemplates that, nodding his acceptance. It's better than what he'd feared, more than he'd hoped. He keeps his anxious and attentive gaze on Bucky's face. His heart feels like it might pound out of his chest and dash away into the night. "Can I—" he swallows, closes his eyes, tries again. "Can I hug you?"

Bucky's blue eyes fly wide and dip momentarily down. He gives the tiniest of nods, which is all the invitation Steve needs.

Steve throws his arms around Bucky's shoulders, slots his body right against the other man's. He tucks his face into Bucky's neck and inhales. The shampoo is new, but the faint cinnamon scent, which has always meant Bucky and _home_ to Steve, still exudes from the man's skin.

Tentatively, inch by inch, Bucky's arms come up to embrace Steve, the muscles and tendons contracting like tight bands around his ribcage. It starts as a slight tremor, but eventually Bucky's whole body begins shaking violently.

Steve cups one of his hands around the back of Bucky's neck, tangling his fingers in Bucky's soft hair, and says, "I've got you, I've got you. You're safe. You're home," over and over again.

Tears fall onto Steve's dinner jacket, and Steve's heart cracks into pieces. In all these years, he's never seen Bucky cry. He leans back, tries to force a smile though he doubts he succeeds, and wipes away Bucky's tears with his sleeve as he pulls the man out of the kitchen and toward the sofa.

"Fuck, Steve. Seventy years." He takes huge gulps of air, painful and desperate sounding. "And then I tried to kill you!"

Steve pushes him down until they are sitting next to each other, thighs pressed together, and he winds his arm around Bucky's shoulders. "I'm pretty sure I came close to killing you. And between the two of us, I had more control."

Bucky's shuddering stops, and he whips his face toward Steve. "Don't. Don't say anything like that. I didn't give you a choice."

"HYDRA didn't give you a choice."

Bucky's head falls against Steve's chest and Steve pulls him in close. Bucky's body begins shaking again.

Steve runs his hand up and down Bucky's back in long strokes. "Just breathe for me, Bucky," he says, using those long ago (and mere moments ago) words Bucky used to say every time Steve had an asthma attack.

Bucky seems to still at the words, and then he tugs back to look at Steve with red-rimmed eyes. "I've hardly been up to anything as innocent as asthma, Stevie."

Steve reaches up to tuck Bucky's hair behind his ears, not considering the tender gesture until he sees Bucky's surprise.

Bucky flushes and sits all the way up. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to come until I could hold myself together, and I don't even last one minute."

"It's been a rough seven decades," Steve shrugs.

A smile plays upon Bucky's mouth. "Good to see you're still an obnoxious punk."

"Always." Steve's lips quirk up at the old insult, and he wonders if as much of the former Bucky is as gone as Bucky believes. Then he realizes it doesn't matter. Steve loves Bucky regardless. He draws Bucky back in for another hug, enjoying the warmth of his body against him. He suspects he will be doing this often for the foreseeable future.

They remain like that, intertwined with each other and saying nothing. Steve's unable to hazard a guess about the time without a clock. An hour? Two? He's too wrapped up in having something precious and dear returned to him, too afraid it will slip through his fingers with the wrong word.

"I can't stay for long," Bucky whispers into Steve's neck, his breath ghosting against the delicate skin and causing Steve to shiver.

"Why?" Steve asks, trying to withstand the urge to fold his arms tighter around Bucky and not let go. Bucky can't leave, he _can't_.

"Too much danger. I'll get you in a heap of trouble. I only wanted you to see I was okay."

" I'm glad you came, but, actually, no one is looking for you—not the U.S. government anyway." He doubts Germany or Russia will look too hard either—too much risk of a spotlight being shed on their complicity in torture.

"What?" Bucky stiffens in shock.

"You've been pardoned. Or you will be if you're willing to agree to a few restrictions."

Bucky's shoulders hunch together like he's trying to ward off the cold. "I don't want another cell."

Bucky's voice is small and terrible, and Steve aches for him. "No jail. No bars. Mainly, you have to stay with me and see a therapist."

"How—I don't understand. I've killed a lot of people. How?"

"You're also fairly wealthy by today's standards."

"What?" Bucky's confusion is almost comical.

"It was unbelievably easy. Tony Stark is a friend, and his lawyers may have pointed out that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collusion with HYDRA make the U.S. government liable for the seventy years you spent as a prisoner. I have the papers here. You've got a week to sign or make any amendments."

"Tony Stark? Jesus Christ, his parents! Does he know? Why would he fucking help me?"

"He does know," Steve says, having long ago discovered the information about Tony's parents being murdered by the Winter Soldier. "If you ask him, he'll say something about a redemption story arc being good for his PR. But if you want the real reason, he's a good man. Anyone who even sees as much as one page of your file understands you don't deserve to go to jail."

"Steve—"

"Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. You deserve this. I understand you carry the guilt, and that's not going magically away, but you deserve to be free."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then don't. Why don't you think on it, and we can talk tomorrow? I can show you the documents, put you in touch with the attorneys. In fact, they'd love to speak to you. They had the time of their lives threatening all sorts of government officials with some creative legal claims. At least that's what Tony says."

Bucky looks a little shell-shocked. He's gone pale, and he keeps opening and closing his mouth as if he can't decide on what words he needs to say.

"So…sleep?" Steve prods.

"Okay, yeah, sleep," Bucky agrees.

"I've got a futon in the spare bedroom I can make up for you." Steve doesn't want to let Bucky out of his sight and suspects he might sleep out in the hallway by Bucky's door, but he doesn't want to push the man who has spent the last two years putting distance between them.

Steve stands up but finds Bucky's fingers gripping the fabric of his dinner jacket. Bucky stares at his hand before letting go and diverting his gaze to the side. "I'm sorry," he says in a gruff whisper.

Steve's hand wraps around Bucky's shoulder, which relaxes slightly. "No, Bucky. You don't need to apologize for needing me. You're my…friend. Do you—do you want to stay in my room? Would that be better?"

Bucky bites on his lip before rubbing his palms into his eyes and letting out a frustrated groan. Clearly embarrassed, he still nods.

"None of that," Steve says, grabbing at one of Bucky's hands to pull him upright. "I've got some pajama pants you can borrow and you can stay in my room with me. It'll be like all those times the heat went out and we had to share a bed or freeze to death."

The lines around Bucky's eyes crinkle, though he doesn't really muster a true smile. "You mean you'd have frozen. I was fine. You're the one who always hated winter."

And isn't that a perfect reminder of what is written on Steve's chest and how he used to feel about it?

The urge to blurt out that he is Bucky's soulmate rushes over Steve like a sudden burst of hot water, but Steve knows it should wait until at least tomorrow if not later. Bucky's mental state is uncertain, and there is so much to discuss.

Hell, it's not like Bucky isn't aware. At least, Steve assumes so. Oh, lord, what if he isn't? What if there is some third person's name on Bucky's chest?

 _Take a deep breath, Steve._ He wills the icy shards that have latched onto his heart away. Honestly, Steve doesn't care if _Iron Man_ is written on Bucky. Steve's waited over eighty years to tell Bucky he loves him. He can wait a while longer, but he will tell him no matter what.

"You okay, Stevie? You look like someone kicked your puppy."

Steve tries to smile through the ache in his throat. Suddenly, the air is thick with the weight of a thousand secrets that remain between them.

"I'm fine. I promise. I'm just so happy you're here that I got a little lost in my head."

Bucky throws him a skeptical look. "If you're sure."

Steve pulls Bucky along to the bedroom and turns on the light on the bedside table. He yanks out clothes from his dresser for the both of them. Bucky pulls off his shirt, and the first thing Steve notices is the metal arm. The second thing he notices is that Bucky still has a patch over his heart. Steve's not sure what that means, and he takes his clothes and goes into the bathroom to change out of his tux.

Steve hasn't worn a patch in over two years.

He hurries through his ablutions, not trusting that Bucky won't change his mind and disappear into the wind again. The wild urge to run out to the bedroom, tackle Bucky, and kiss him—cement the soulbond, make sure that Steve can sense the pull, can find Bucky whenever he wants—nearly overwhelms him.

And hell, seizing those full red lips with his own would fulfill a lifelong ambition of Steve's, and, at this point, Steve has lived a long damned life.

But he won't do that to Bucky. It would seem like placing another unwanted control upon him. A chain, and that's the last thing Steve would ever want to be.

So, he pads out of the bathroom to find Bucky wearing Steve's navy T-shirt and lying on his side in bed. Bucky looks wary and weary and has practically wilted into the white sheets that are drawn up to his waist.

He also looks so beautiful that Steve's chest hurts.

"Can I get you anything?" Steve asks as he reaches for the lamp.

Bucky shakes his head and rolls over onto his back, arms at his sides.

Steve switches off the light, runs his palm across his heart as he stares at the shadowy man in his bed before he crawls in beside him.

They're silent for the space of a minute. Bucky, gently illuminated in the moonlight, stares up at the ceiling while Steve faces Bucky. It's past 2:30 according to the alarm clock, and there's a tiredness in his bones he wasn't aware of until he lay down.

After a moment of hesitation, Steve reaches out and gives Bucky's shoulder a light squeeze. "Goodnight, Bucky." And _God,_ there was such joy in saying those words.

"Goodnight," Bucky returns quietly, whisper-soft but not unfriendly. Subdued.

Steve pulls his hand back, but not all the way. His fingers curl into a loose fist and the edges of his knuckles caress Bucky's tricep below the short sleeve of his T-shirt. The skin is smooth and warm and just reaffirming enough that what's happening is real to lull Steve into sleep.

***

Soft sunlight making its way across the bedspread wakes Steve who discovers the pleasant sensation of Bucky's hair tickling his nose. It's bliss. Sometime in the night Bucky must have thrown himself across Steve, the right side of his body acting as a warm, muscular blanket. Steve has his arms wrapped around Bucky, one hand at Bucky's waist and the other at his nape, fingers buried in his dark hair.

Steve could have cried with happiness. Softly, without deliberation, he rubs Bucky's scalp, sinking his fingertips into the long strands of hair. He tries to push away all thoughts but enjoying the present, using his awareness of Bucky's body upon him as he would his shield against an enemy. But eventually he can't help considering the day, what he must do, what he needs to discover.

After seventy years, Bucky Barnes is still haunted, still hunted, still hurting. Does he even have the mental stability to handle this soulmate question or will it make him run? Will the sudden appearance of _Winter Soldier_ on Steve's chest feel too much like a trap? Will it wound him that it's the name of the assassin and not _James Barnes_? Or will he even care at all given that _Captain America_ was written on Bucky for years without Bucky ever even hinting at it? Assuming Steve’s right about that, anyway.

He doesn't want to hide his soulmark from Bucky forever, but, now that he's clearheaded and rested, it seems like the wrong time to reveal it. Steve isn't sure how Bucky would react at this point. It had been a lot for Steve to take in when he figured out the identity of the Winter Soldier, and Steve was stable at the time compared to Bucky now.

And Steve had _wanted_ Bucky's name across his heart his whole life. Had yearned for it in ways that Bucky certainly hadn't. Bucky had always been attracted to girls. Steve can't remember an instance where Bucky betrayed anything other than an interest in the opposite sex.

How _Captain America_ ended up on Bucky's chest is a mystery.

Bucky had loved Steve, though, at least as a friend, so why did Bucky never say a word during the war?

Steve longs to peel the patch off of Bucky's chest and make sure he's not putting the cart before the horse. Sure, no one in history had received a name that wasn't reciprocated by the other person, but Steve and Bucky both have a way of circumventing bedrock expectations and truths.

If the words do say _Iron Man_ , Steve has changed his mind. He is going to become a super-villain. He'll swear it right now. He’ll even get Tony to join him. _And thank you, Bruce, for putting this idea in my head._

This day, as Sam would say, is going to be a clusterfuck. Steve's chest expands and contracts with the deep sigh he unleashes. He starts thinking of all the ways the legal agreement Tony's lawyers cooked up might feel like shackles to a POW who has been on the run for two years. Bucky hasn't lived in one place for more than a few weeks, if that much, and now Steve is going to ask him to live with him for three years, basically under guard the whole time.

It's fair, it's fair, Steve knows it's fair, Bucky will even probably admit it's fair, but will he agree to it? And the possibility of Bucky leaving at the end of the day with Steve powerless to stop it rips and shreds at Steve's threadbare emotions. His arm around Bucky's waist tightens as he fights against the instinct to complete the soulbond. He could do it, claim Bucky's lips right here, but he won't, he _won't_. It has to be Bucky's choice. It all has to be Bucky's choice.

Anxiety ratcheting up, Steve lies there for at least ten minutes when Bucky lets out a little moan and shifts his hips. Steve's body is taut already from tension, sensitive like he's been touch-deprived for a century (which isn’t far from the truth), and the movement is exquisite torture. Steve's whole frame jerks in reaction.

Bucky freezes as soon as he wakes, seeming to realize he's draped over Steve. A heavy breath puffs against Steve's neck.

Steve knows there's no graceful way of acknowledging their position. So, he doesn't. "I'd like to take a shower," he says in a muted voice. "Would you like to go first?"

Bucky rolls away, his head still trapping Steve's arm underneath it. "No, uh, you go ahead."

Steve nods and extracts his hand from under Bucky with a careful tug. He takes the chance to peruse his old friend, gratefully taking in the sleep-worn face and messy hair, the exposed skin where his shirt has ridden upwards and teases his naval. Bucky keeps his gaze pointed carefully at the window, and Steve lets out a miniscule breath.

He sends a little silent prayer up to heaven to help him get through this day.

***

The hot shower helps clear Steve's mind for a few minutes. Once he is clean, he shuts off the water, towels dry, and slips into his jeans and a tank top and sets about shaving. He puts the blue and white check plaid shirt he is planning to wear down next to the sink.

When he finishes shaving, Steve stares at his reflection. He braces his hands on either side of the pedestal sink, and he slumps forward until his forehead rests against the oval mirror. _Deep breaths, Steve._

For all the time he's spent hoping for Bucky's return, why on earth hadn't he given more thought to what he should say and how to do it?

Perhaps he should put it all in a letter? Make it clear that anything that happens or doesn't happen is Bucky's decision?

Yet, Steve wants to tell Bucky about his soulmark so badly he can taste it in his mouth. He wants to forget about discussing the legal agreement, forget trying to ascertain Bucky's state of mind. The urge to kiss Bucky, making the soulbond take root, buries it’s way under Steve's skin. He's waited, and he's waited, and he's waited. He's wanted. He's wanted Bucky so damn much. His entire body seems to know that Bucky is just beyond the door, probably still lying in the tangled sheets.

Steve knocks his head against the mirror, the thud sounding too loud in the tiled room. He _has_ to wait. At least until Bucky's legal problems are officially fixed, if not longer. Until Bucky isn't in tears at the sight of Steve. Until Bucky can look at him in the morning. Those things are more important.

"Steve?" comes Bucky's scratchy voice through the door.

His throat won't cooperate, and Steve clears his it a couple times, trying to make it work.

"Steve?" Bucky's tone is more worried, and the next thing Steve knows Bucky has opened the door.

Steve spins away from the mirror, swiftly scratching at his wet hair as he regards the other man. He clears his throat again. "Bucky? Do you need something?" He's suddenly sixteen again, trying to fake nonchalance but his voice sounding too squeaky and nervous.

Bucky's lips press into a small, tight frown. "I’m sorry, I heard a banging or knocking, and I—well, I don't know what I thought, but I wanted to check on you."

"It's okay. I was just finishing up." He pointlessly waves his hand in the general vicinity of the sink and glances behind him to where he hadn't put away his razor.

"What's…that?"

"Hmmm?" Steve, noting the singular urgency to Bucky's voice, turns back to look at him.

Bucky, his brows sling low in concentration, moves forward, closing in on Steve. "When did you get a soulmark?"

Oh. _Oh…_

Steve's hand flies up to his chest, and he realizes he never put on the plaid shirt. The top edges of the soulmark are visible above the neckline of the tank. Steve's heart beats frantically like the pistons in one of Tony's fancy sportscars.

This was not supposed to happen.

"I…geez." Steve covers his face with his hand and stretches the skin of his cheek tight by dragging down his palm. "Why don’t we go back out into the bedroom?"

Bucky doesn't budge. His gaze bores into Steve's chest, but Steve knows only the outer tips of the "W" and the top part of the "t" are visible. Bucky's blue eyes darken like a smoky sky as his frown deepens. "I don't understand how you could have hidden this. I mean, physically, I don't understand. Did the army give you paint or something? Because, Steve, I know my memory is a bit shot, but I'd remember if that were there." There is accusation and hurt in the tone, and Steve blinks rapidly in panic.

Steve wraps his fingers around Bucky's elbow and shakes it lightly. "No! It's not at all whatever it is you're thinking. I promise I was going to tell you, I was just going to wait until you were more…settled."

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. "I think you're going to tell me now, Steve."

"Let's go sit out there. I promise I'll tell you."

Bucky nods once and turns and stalks the ten steps or so to the bed. His pace and posture are very much in keeping with Steve's memories of the Winter Soldier at the moment. He folds his arms across his chest again, this time in a more defensive gesture, as he sits down at the foot of the bed, and he dips his chin low.

Steve's feet are like lead weights as he drags himself across the room. He lowers himself down next to Bucky, turning so that one knee rests on the bed so he can face the other man. "It's part of a long story."

"Well, you got a soulmark." He throws his hand out in an aborted swooping motion that Steve guesses is supposed to encompass the years of their childhood and the war. "Doesn't seem like too long a story to have told me. 'Hey Bucky, I finally got a soulmark!' That doesn't seem too complicated even for you."

Bucky sneers, and whether it's his expression or the words that had accompanied it that set Steve off, Steve's unsure. Anger slices up and rakes down his skin like a sharp blade. Because he hasn't missed the hypocrisy in what Bucky's saying. "Really, Bucky? You want to go there? Because, first, I wasn't hiding a thing back then." _Not true, not true_ , his mind taunted. _I hid everything but a soulmark_. "It was _you_ who liked to keep secrets, not me." Steve shoves the blunt tips of his index and middle fingers right into Bucky's chest where the layers of T-shirt and patch cover his soulmark.

"Well, then explain that, Steve," Bucky said, shoving right back at the poorly concealed soulmark on Steve's chest with his metal hand. With a voice that had seemingly rolled itself in sarcasm before taking a hot bath in it, Bucky asked, "Aren't you a little old to be getting a soulmark?"

Steve's chin jerks upwards. "Yes! Yes, I was. I was twenty-seven." And he is shouting. "Twenty-seven or ninety-five with the wrong, awful words written on my chest."

Bucky seems to shrink but his chin juts out in defiance. But then his shoulders drop and he looks away, inhaling deeply through his nose. "Fine. Was it not Peggy, then?"

"WHAT?" _WHAT?_

"You said they were the wrong words. I assume that means it wasn't Peggy. You must have been disappointed."

"Why?" Steve's mind spins at the implication, but for the life of him he can’t figure out where Bucky has gotten this idea.

"Don't lie, Steve. I saw you with her. You liked her. You were always watching her."

The fight leaves Steve in the wake of his confusion. "I did like her, and if I watched her, it was because she had excellent bone structure. I wanted to draw her!" Of all the things he'd ever imagined arguing about when it came to his soulmark, Peggy Carter was not one of them.

"Then what was with the disappointment you mentioned?"

"True, I said I was disappointed when I saw what was on my chest. Devastated, in fact," Steve says with a small half-smile. "I thought I could hate them for taking up that space across my heart. I'd rather have stayed a blank."

At this, Bucky goes pale, and he nods and bites down on his lip.

Steve reaches out, grips Bucky's jaw, and turns his face toward him. Lets Bucky see the truth in his eyes. "I was devastated because it didn't say _James Barnes_."

Bucky wrenches out of Steve's grip and scrambles back on the bed. He looks like Steve had slapped the hell out of him. "Then who?" His gaze drops to Steve's chest for a second as if he could see the words through the tank top if he stared hard enough. "Who?" He crawls back another foot until he's almost on the opposite side of the bed and looks ready to flee.

Steve realizes that Bucky, if he expected Steve to have a soulmark at all (and clearly he didn't until moments ago), believed the words would be _James Barnes_ if they referenced him. Bucky doesn't see _Winter Soldier_ coming. And Steve tries to get the words out. He tries so hard but it's as if his throat has choked them down along with all the love Steve has hidden from this man for a century.

Bucky's eyes are wide, panicking, and oh-so-hurt. Steve reaches down to the hem of his tank and yanks it up and over his head. Bucky's gaze travels from Steve's face down to his chest, and he recoils farther away with a tiny, injured whimper when he makes out the name.

Steve closes his eyes. Because this, _this_ , was always the part he could never predict. And given Bucky's immediate reaction, this wasn't going to go as Steve had desperately hoped. No, instead, Steve was going to find out why Bucky had never told him they were soulmates during the war. The reason Bucky didn't want him. Steve breathes in and out and tries to swallow back the pain rising from his chest and into his mouth. He tries to brace himself for rejection.

But he can't be ready. How could he? Bucky was and is everything Steve ever wanted or wants. How can Steve bear to hear all the reasons Bucky never wanted him.

Doesn't want him now.

He doesn't notice the shift in temperature at first, the warmth of Bucky's body nearby. It's the delicate touch of Bucky's fingers tracing over Steve's soulmark that causes Steve to open his eyes and quiver. Somehow Bucky had crossed the room without making a sound and now was looking at Steve with wonder and astonishment.

"How?" This time, awe fills Bucky's voice. He presses his whole hand, the human one, against the mark, and sparks fly down Steve's spine as he lets out a small groan.

"When I woke up from the ice. I can't explain it," Steve answers.

Bucky nods at this and drops his forehead onto Steve's bare shoulder as he sits down close to Steve, his legs curled to the side on the bed.

Steve leans his chin against Bucky's head, and wraps one arms around Bucky's waist. "I'm guessing…I'm guessing yours says _Captain America_."

There's a beat of silence, a stiffening of Bucky's spine. "How long have you known?"

"Since shortly after I realized you were still alive. I wasn't sure, but I thought, I hoped, it might be the case." He waits, and when Bucky doesn't respond, he asks, "Can I see it?"

Instead of answering, Bucky leans back and pulls off his shirt, which leaves the black patch. He starts to peel it away when Steve brushes aside his fingers.

At Bucky's questioning look, Steve explains, "I've hated this thing for over three-quarters of a century. It's only fair I get to strip it off."

And where the old Bucky would have had a quippy retort, this one only arrests Steve's hands with his own for a moment, holding them against his firm chest, before releasing them to finish their ministrations.

The patch gives way easily to Steve's fingers until _it_ is there, Bucky's soulmark. _Captain America._ It's written in a plainer script than Steve's, but it's large, larger than Steve's palm, and written in ink just as black as what's printed across Steve's skin.

Everything shifts and settles in Steve, and he knows he reached yet another tipping point in his life. But this one seems more hopeful, fuller somehow. This isn't finding Bucky on table reciting his name and rank, this isn't flying into a shelf of ice, it certainly isn't seeing _Winter Soldier_ for the first time. This is listening to "What a Little Moonlight Can Do" with Bucky's arm around him. It's a Grand Canyon of possibilities. Of hope. It's finding his breath when he couldn't get enough oxygen. It’s all of these and more.

Bucky inhales shakily and pulls Steve into a hug. For all it feels natural, it also feels new, wildly new, like a wheel spinning true for the first time.

Despite having grown up together, Steve can't remember another time where they'd been in this state of half-dress and so close to each other. Maybe when they were still boys when it wouldn't have meant anything. But now, with Bucky's bare chest and torso melding into Steve's, it means everything.

"Why didn't you tell me all those years ago?" Steve asks, letting his chin drop onto Bucky's clavicle. He doesn't want to pick another fight, but he wants the truth.

Bucky tenses in Steve's arms but he doesn't let go. "Look, it wasn't that simple."

Steve's brows climb up his forehead. "You were yelling at me a few minutes ago that it was indeed that simple."

"You and I are two very different people."

Steve, reluctantly, pulls out of Bucky's embrace to look at him. He curls his hands around Bucky's biceps. "What does that mean?"

Bucky presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth with a little clicking sound. "It means I’m not good like you."

Steve leans forward to glare his disagreement. "That's just not—"

Bucky holds up his hand against Steve's lips. "Let me finish." At Steve's nod, he lets go. "Just let me get through this, and then you can speak your piece. I don't know what it was like for you, but I had feelings for you before this mark ever showed up on me. And I had a _lot_ of them, enough that I was convinced it would be your name. And then it wasn't."

There's a buzzing in Steve's ears at this declaration. He'd never imagined Bucky's feelings had ever resembled his own. All that time, Bucky had been within Steve's reach. And that idea makes Steve's heart swell.

Bucky shifts forward so that the side of his head lies flush against Steve's shoulder and his face a mere inch from Steve's neck. "And I hated Captain America because he wasn't you. I knew you'd have somebody else out there, and you were the exact sort who would buy in hook, line, and sinker into this soulmate bullshit. You'd fall for your soulmate and ride off into the sunset, and I couldn't fucking compete."

"You'd be surprised," Steve says with a small snort. He lets his palms slide down Bucky's arms until he finds his hands and envelops them. "I'd decided to tell my soulmate to shove off if it meant I could somehow have you." Bucky's Adam's apple bobs against his own neck as Bucky twitches his head in surprise. "So why not tell me later when you found out I was Captain America?"

Shrugging, Bucky says, "Almost blurted it out when you rescued me that time. Damn fire was about all that would've stopped me."

"But?"

A long gust of air escapes Bucky's lips and ghosts along Steve's skin. "But then we got back to camp, and you liked Peggy—you were always looking at her and stumbling over your words—and you were still a blank. I got to thinking and realized there was a reason you were a blank." Bucky pauses, and the tension in his body increases while his skin goes cold. "I realized you may have been my soulmate, but I wasn't yours. You deserved someone better."

"Better?" Steve can’t decide if he is incredulous, angry, or completely heart-broken. He picks up Bucky's human hand, weaves their fingers together, and brings them up to hold against his chest.

Bucky moves so that Steve can see his troubled blue eyes. "I saw one of your films once, back before I knew you were Captain America." His tone has a far way quality to it, before it turns biting in the next words. "And I hated you, Steve. I wished you dead. I didn't give a shit what was on my chest, I wanted those words to fade.

"The moment you became real for me on screen was the moment I hoped you'd rot in hell. Captain America wasn't Steve Rogers and so I wanted him dead. That simple."

Bucky clenches his metal hand into a tight fist and tips his head back to look up at the ceiling. "If that weren't enough, the war, God Steve, it changed me. I never had the moral center you had—I'd lie and cheat and steal if I had to—and the devil could take my soul because if it came between something for you and it, then goodbye heaven. It wasn't even a choice."

Steve pulls their entwined hands up to his cheek, but Bucky show no reaction. He merely continues his story: "Then came the war, and in that year before you got there, well, I added killing to my repertoire of skills. I got real good at it. I'd seen too much, done too much. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot of me left that was good by the time you got there. Probably why I was easy pickings for HYDRA."

"Bucky—" Steve starts but has no idea where to go from there. There is so much wrong in what Bucky said about himself. When they were younger, and particularly when they lived together, Steve had known when Bucky had lied or stolen things. It was _always_ when Steve was sick. He'd done what needed to be done; he'd been pragmatic where Steve had been too proud, too worried about being seen as puny.

Bucky did things Steve couldn't do, which only meant Steve was weak where Bucky was strong.

As for the war, Steve's hands were as dirty as anyone else's. He had no idea why Bucky thought Steve would judge him for anything that happened.

Bucky is the best man Steve's ever known. How can Bucky believe anything else?

A tiny shake of Bucky's head cuts off Steve before he can mount an argument. Bucky isn't finished. "So, I wasn't worthy of you. Knew it before we got back to base after you rescued me. Figured I'd probably die anyway with my luck, and why make you live with that. It'd be better if you never did. You were a blank. Wouldn't hurt you as much when I was gone."

Steve, heart thudding in his chest, aches for his friend. "Didn't it hurt _you_?"

"It didn't matter," Bucky mutters. "Was worried about you."

Steve's grip tightens around Bucky's hand. "Did you ever think about trying to fulfill the soulbond with me? Maybe it would have shown up on my chest." It didn't always work for everyone, but sometimes it did.

Bucky lets out a hollow laugh, and it's rough, like something scarred. "Oh, I did try. It didn't work. Obviously."

"When? I think I'd remember if you kissed me, Bucky."

"Remember that time you took all those damn bullets on our way out of Prague? Dropped your shield for one fuckin' minute, and there you were bleeding from your gut, your legs, and right above your ear. Hell, you were even spittin' up blood. Morita couldn't sew you up fast enough and we thought you'd die in that leaky tent before we could get you back to base."

Steve narrows his eyes and nods as he tries to pull up the memory. It's hazy, filtered through the lens of the worst injuries he took during the war. Pain and numbness, and scared he was about to let Bucky down. He can remember Morita's steady hand as he threaded a needle and Bucky's shaking ones as he held Steve down.

Bucky purses his lips and briefly toys with a lock of Steve's hair with his metal hand. "You finally passed out, in the most dramatic way possible, no less. A big gasp for air like you were having the worst asthma attack of your life and then your eyes rolled back. I thought, I thought you were gone. And I kissed you then. Right in front of Morita and God, I kissed you. Like I could chase you through death's door and drag you back across the threshold."

Steve's limbs go weightless, like he's floating. "You never said. Morita never said."

"Yeah, like Morita wanted to tell Captain America that his best friend was a homosexual. He'd seen those movies of you socking Hitler in the jaw, too, you know. I doubt he wanted a live demonstration."

Steve rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated groan. "Bucky, there's something you've failed to grasp in all of this."

Bucky raises his eyebrows in a clear "What's that?" expression.

"I've loved you since I was eight and you pulled Joseph Ray off me in the schoolyard. Dropped like a rock, though I wouldn't recognize it until we were teenagers. When you got this," Steve puts his hand over Bucky's soulmark, "I hated that person because it wasn't me." He then pulls Bucky's hand over to where _Winter Solider_ is written, "And when I got this, I hated you, too. So, wherever you got the idea I was too virtuous to hunker down in the slime and the sludge, to not experience what hate meant, you have it all wrong."

Bucky plucks his hand away from Steve and then gives his shoulder a hard squeeze. "I'm still not good enough for you, Stevie. For anyone. My memories could give horror shows bad dreams. I've been a monster more of my life than I've been a man."

Steve’s eyelids fall shut, and he tries to find the right words to fight Bucky's beliefs. "Look," he says slowly, "What HYDRA did to you is beyond words. And, I understand you're going to have a hard time not blaming yourself. But, to me, you're a hero. You always fought them, as much as you could. Past the point almost any man would. And when you broke free of them, you didn't go hide. You made sure they couldn't harm you or anybody else again."

"Maybe I had a taste for blood," Bucky spits, swiping the back of his hand across his nose.

"Maybe you did," Steve says with an intentionally careless shrug.

Bucky rears back, stung.

Steve stretches up and runs his thumb along Bucky's finely sculpted cheekbone in apology. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You might be skilled at killing, but you're not governed by bloodlust. I'd have found a lot more innocent bodies in that year I tried chasing you. And I didn't find any. You've been protecting everyone."

Bucky turns his face away, but he isn't able to shake off Steve's hand. "I'm still not—"

Crowding closer, Steve pulls Bucky against him and then pushes him down onto the bed so that Steve is lying on top of him, chest to chest. "What do you want, Bucky? What is it you want for yourself?"

Bucky tries to shrug Steve off, but he gives up, and lies still for a moment as he stares at the ceiling. He trails his bionic hand up and down Steve's spine in a serpentine pattern, forcing Steve to let out a small sigh. Steve isn't sure Bucky is aware he's doing it. Probably not.

Finally, Bucky says in an unyielding voice, "I want you happy. I want you to stop looking back."

“Let me describe to you a picture of my happiness going forward. It has you in it."

"You don't even know me anymore, not really."

Steve wants to scream his frustration, but, instead, he tips his forehead down to touch Bucky's. "Tell me, do I have 'James Barnes circa 1945' written on my chest?"

Bucky shakes his head, but he refuses to make eye contact.

"No, I have _Winter Soldier_ written there. I can also tell you I've spent hundreds of hours trying to figure out why that would be written there instead of your name, and I can't tell you much." Steve pauses to place his hands on either side of Bucky's neck and then soothes Bucky's collarbone with small, circular motions of his thumbs until Bucky looks at him. "But I can say without a doubt in my mind that this name doesn't mean I was meant to love the easiest version of you. It means I'm going to love you in this century and in this moment."

Bucky's blue eyes fly wide as if struck by this new thought, but Steve continues, "Now possibly you're still holding onto who I used to be, because I can tell you I've changed—"

"No, of course not," Bucky interrupts, "I—You—You will always be everything to me, Stevie. No matter what."

Steve thumps at Bucky's shoulders with the heels of his hands. "Then let it be the same for me! Stay with me. Read the legal documents, sign them, and stay. _Stay_. For fuck's sake, Bucky, just stay." He swallows and says in a much smaller voice, letting all his loneliness and want bleed through, "Please."

Their foreheads are still touching, but Steve somehow manages to keep his gaze up high so he can't see Bucky's face. He fights to breathe in and out, angry at Bucky for being stubborn about himself all these years, angry at himself for not being enough to keep Bucky here. Angry at himself for allowing this whole irresponsible conversation to happen before it should have.

He shudders in surprise when Bucky's large, human hand cups the side of Steve's face. Steve looks back down to see a smirk gracing Bucky's lips. And it's a relief and it's hopeful and Steve thinks Bucky looks so much like his old self in that one instant that Steve's heart won't survive its own drumming.

"My, my, I didn't know Captain America was condoning swearing these days. You've changed, Rogers. I'm not sure I’m gonna be able to put up with this rebellious side."

Like a breaking dam, all the tension in Steve's body flows out at Bucky's teasing words. He leans his cheek into Bucky's palm, and a sensation like drunkenness overtakes him for the first time since Project Insight. He closes his eyes and growls, "Please tell me that means you're staying."

Bucky urges Steve's head back to put a few more inches between them. His metal hand combs through Steve's hair, still damp from the shower, and he uses his other thumb to brush along Steve's lower lip. "After you put in all that work into your fancy speech? I'd be ungrateful not to."

Tentative, nerves fraying, and shivering under Bucky's touch, Steve replies, "I don't think I can take the teasing right now. Would you mind giving me a straightforward answer?"

"I think I can manage that." Bucky cradles Steve's head with his bionic hand as he flips them over so that their positions are reversed.

If Steve thought having Bucky beneath him was bliss, then having Bucky, shirtless and pupils blown wide, on top of him is pure heaven. Bucky is heavy, almost unnaturally so with the weight of the metal arm, and Steve loves the feel of him bearing him down into the mattress.

"I'll stay," Bucky says, voice solemn. "I'm sorry I ran; I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you." He swallows, and his expression turns more open, more tender. "I've fucking loved you before I even knew what that meant. I think I loved you even in the times when I forgot what that meant."

Steamy warmth and amazement flood Steve’s senses because it's clear in Bucky's steady gaze how much he means those words. "Me, too, Buck. I've loved you for a century. I don't care what's written on my chest, I'll love you forever."

"Thank God Morita's not here this time," Bucky says, a little caution peppering his voice, and Steve supposes that's Bucky's way of asking permission.

In answer, Steve replies with a big smile and says, "I'm kinda happier not to be bleeding and unconscious, myself."

Buck huffs out a dry laugh, which may be the best thing Steve has heard in his entire life, and then leans down to seize Steve's lips in a kiss.

It's like a clap of lighting on a dry, summer night—unexpected and beautiful and thrilling. The completion of the soulbond is instantaneous, like a switch flips and a current runs constantly between Bucky and Steve.

Steve only has a moment to relish Bucky's firm but silky lips when Bucky pulls back with a loud gasp. Steve blinks up at him, already able to sense the pull between them settle. It's both comforting and sweet, and it's also impossible to describe the sun-bright sensation that flows between their souls.

But other than that, Steve realizes, he doesn't feel any different. No overwhelming new feelings, no stronger affections, nothing. "I feel absolutely the same as before," he says with a big grin.

Bucky cocks his head and stares down at Steve with a bit of devilry in his eyes. "I feel kind of pissed this bond thing interrupted us kissing."

Steve snorts and curls his arms around Bucky's neck, but Bucky catches one of Steve's hands and presses a small kiss into his palm.

Bucky's eyes soften, and he says, "I couldn't love you more, sweetheart. Impossible. Never needed a kiss to tell me that."

Steve's toes curl at the endearment, and he curves his body up to whisper in Bucky's ear, "You know the kissing wasn't a one-time opportunity, right?"

Touch feather-light, Bucky traipses his fingers up Steve's abdomen to the mark on his heart and coils them around the back of his neck. Steve's body is on fire before Bucky can press a soft kiss into his jaw and whisper, "Gorgeous."

Maybe _this_ is why, Steve thinks in his last moment of reason for a long while. Maybe this is why fate played havoc with their soulbonds. To convince Bucky to stay with Steve when darkness still clung to Bucky like cold, winter snow.

Then Bucky kisses him again, slow and wet and dirty. And Steve stops thinking about the soulmarks at all.

***

It isn't easy, but it was never going to be easy. Both Bucky and Steve have known that much from the very beginning.

Bucky wrestles so much with the wreckage of his past that Steve feels like it's a struggle to breathe just watching him. But the breaths come easier for both of them over time. Bucky will always be a little darker, a little quieter, than the Bucky before the war. Steve will always be a little more likely to hide his feelings, a little more hesitant, which will drive Bucky nuts. Steve still trusts in people's inherent goodness, and Bucky still looks for each new person's angle. They're nothing new, but those traits seem magnified somehow in this new age.

They've lived through depression and war, sickness and torture, second identities and a distant past, even death itself. There's no obstacle they can't surmount.

They're happy. In Bucky's words—so fucking ridiculously happy.

The future looks bright. They are never going to part.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are curious: I think I considered just about every possibility for a bigger "surprise" ending for Bucky's soulmark, but ultimately the straight-forward approach sat better with me. I couldn't think of a different name (or lack of name, which I came pretty close to doing) on Bucky that wouldn't make one of the guys either an idiot or cruel, particularly when I factored in some details I'd included in the first chapter. Thus, "Captain America" became "Winter Soldier's" soulmate. I think if I ever wrote this from Bucky's POV, the surprise would probably seem bigger--eh, I live and learn.
> 
> Again, huge thanks to all for reading! This was a stylistic departure for me, so I'm thrilled anyone gave it a look.


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